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DIXIE 


OE 


SOUTHERN  SCENES  AND  SKETCHES 


BY 


JULIAN   RALPH 

AUTHOR    OF    "on    CANADA'S    FRONTIER"    "OUR    GREAT    WEST" 
"CHICAGO    AND   THE    WORLD's    FAIR "    ETC. 


ILLUSTRATED 


NEW  YORK 

HARPER   &   BROTHERS   PUBLISHERS 

1896 


^ 


.  \ 


<N 


v 


(^ 


By  JULIAN  RALPH. 


PEOPLE  WE  PASS.  Stories  of  Life  among  the 
Masses  of  New  York  City,  Illustrated.  Post  8vo, 
Cloth.    {Just  Ready.) 

ON  CANADA'S  FRONTIER.  Illustrated.  Square 
8vo,  Cloth,  $2  50. 

OUR  GREAT  WEST.  Illustrated.  Square  8vo, 
Cloth,  $2  50. 

CHICAGO  AND  THE  WORLD'S  FAIR.  Illustrated. 
Svo,  Cloth,  $3  00. 

Pdblibhbd  by  HARPER  &  BROTHERS,  Nbw  Yobk. 


•  •    •  '  • 


Copyright,  1895,  by  Harper  &  Brothers. 

All  rights  reserved. 


Printed  by  J.  J.  Little  &  Co.,  New  York. 


Gvccting 

To  that  happy  society  of  women  and  men  whose  innermost  souls  have  been 
bared  to  me  all  over  the  world,  whose  lodges  are  hospitable  homes,  whose 
passij}ords  are  terms  of  buoyant  friendship,  whose  grips  are  of  the  tendrils  of 
kindly  hearts,  and  whose  aim  is  to  enjoy  and  to  make  joyous  the  fellowship  of 
their  comrades,  this  book  of  Southern  notes  is  admiringly  dedicated. 


4ieS8 


b--v 


AUTHOE'S  NOTE 


The  chapters  which  make  up  this  voluine  first  appeared 
in  Harper's  Magazine  and  Harper's  Weekly  as  a  series 
of  papers  upon  the  development  of  what  may  well  be  called 
"  Our  New  South  "  and  its  resources.  The  descriptions  of 
scenery  and  present  conditions  are  my  own,  but  the  state- 
ments which  are  of  the  most  value  and  importance  to  a 
student  of  the  material  resources  of  the  country  are  such 
as  were  made  to  me,  and  then  verified  by  others — by  the 
most  shrewd  and  skilled,  and  at  the  same  time  disinterested, 
residents  of  the  localities  to  which  they  apply.  It  would 
have  required  years  of  residence  and  special  training  for  me 
to  gather  such  information  from  my  own  experience. 

Perhaps  the  chapter  upon  St.  Louis  will  not  seem  to  be 
as  wholly  in  place  here  as  in  the  companion  to  this  volume, 
called  Our  Great  West.  Truly,  St.  Louis  belongs  somewhere 
between  the  two  sections,  or  more  properly  in  both,  for  it  is 
a  Western  city  with  a  Southern  and  Southwestern  trade. 
It  is  treated  here  because  it  is  impossible  to  correctly  con- 
sider the  Southern  States  without  a  knowledge  of  its  forces 
and  influence,  and  because  these  studies,  and  the  main  jour- 
ney for  making  them,  were  properly  begun  at  that  city — 
the  gate  of  the  old  way  to  the  region  bordering  upon  the 
Mississippi. 

The  other  chapters  are  intended  to  describe  the  vast  and 
prospectively  opulent  section  of  our  country  which  has 
undergone  a  tragic  revolution  and  is  already  beginning  to 
attract  the  population,  capital,  and  energy  by  means  of 
which  it  is  entering  upon  a  new  and  exceedingly  prosperous 
career. 


CONTENTS 


CHAPTER  PAGE 

I.    THE  OLD  WAY  TO  DIXIE 1 

II.  NEW  ORLEANS,  OUR  SOUTHERN  CAPITAL 44 

III.  ALONG  THE  BAYOU  TECHE 91 

IV.  IN  SUNNY  MISSISSIPPI 132 

V.   OUS  OWN  RIVIERA 160 

VI.    THE   INDUSTRIAL    REGION   OF  NORTHERN    ALABAMA, 

TENNESSEE,  AND  GEORGIA 206 

VIL   CHARLESTON  AND  THE  CAROLINAS 248 

VIIL   WHERE   TIME  HAS  SLUMBERED 299 

IX.   OUR  NATIONAL  CAPITAL ,     .     .  337 

X.   THE  PLANTATION  NEGRO 373 

XI.   THE  NEW  GROWTH  OF  ST.  LOUIS 388 


ILLUSTRATIONS 


PAGE 

PRESIDENT  CLEVELAND  RECEIVING Frontispiece 

ROUSTABOUTS B 

THE   "TEXAS" 5 

ROUSTABOUTS  GETTING   UNDER  WAY 7 

THE  SALOON  OF  A  MISSISSIPPI  STEAMBOAT 9 

SALOON  ORNAMENTS 13 

THE   PILOT 14 

"  I'S  FIXED  FOR  LIFE,  BOSS,  IF  DE  GOVER'MENT  DONE  HOLD  OUT  "  17 

A  MISSISSIPPI   STEAMBOAT   CAPTAIN 20 

THE  MATE  OF  A  MISSISSIPPI  BOAT— "NOW,  THEN,  NIGGER "    .      .  23 

DANCE  MUSIC   ON  A  STEAMBOAT 25 

THE   CHICAGO  MAN 28 

THE   AWFUL   BORE 30 

DECK   OP   A  MISSISSIPPI  BOAT — "  YOU'RE  MARRIED,  AIN'T  YOU?"  33 

THE   MAN   FROM  PROVIDENCE 34 

PASSING  A  SISTER-BOAT 36 

ROUSTABOUTS  UNLOADING   A  MISSISSIPPI  BOAT 39 

A  RAFT   OF   LOGS 42 

ON  CANAL  STREET 48 

CREOLE  TYPES 51 

IN  THE  OLD  FRENCH  QUARTER 53 

AN  OLD  COURT  IN  THE  FRENCH  QUARTER 55 

WINDOW  IN  OLD  FRENCH  QUARTER 57 

THE  NEW  ORLEANS  YACHT  CLUB 59 

AT  THE  OLD  FRENCH  OPERA-HOUSE 61 

READING  A  DEATH-NOTICE 64 

ALONG  THE  SHELL  ROAD 66 

THE  QUEER  OLD  CHURCH  OF  ST.  ROCHE 68 

ix 


PAGB 
THE  CLAIBORNE  COTTAGES — A  SUMMER  RESORT  OF  NEW  ORLEANS 

IN   THE  PINY  WOODS 69 

a  bit  of  old  architecture  in  the  french  quarter  ...  70 
street  in  the  old  french  quarter,  from  the  hotel  royal  71 

baker's  cart 73 

a  new  orleans  policeman 75 

vender  op  lottery  tickets 77 

types  of  the  dago 78 

dagos  and  their  boats 79 

the  old  and  the  new  south 81 

a  relic  of  the  ' '  old  "  south 83 

corner  of  bank  building 85 

along  the  levee 87 

"take  your  roughening    with   you,"   said   THE   CAPTAIN    .       .  93 

"SCORES  OF  NEGRO  CABINS" 95 

'CAJUNS 99 

THE  MATE  OF  A  TECHE  BOAT 103 

FELLOW-PASSENGERS 105 

UP   THE  BAYOU  TECHE 107 

A  SUGAR-CANE  PLANTATION Ill 

THE   CLERK 115 

"WORKING   AS  ALL  NEGROES  DO " 119 

GROTTO   AT  BILOXI 125 

A  SHOO  FLY 128 

JEFFERSON   DAVIS'S  MANSION,  BEAUVOIR,  AT   BILOXI 133 

BACHELORS'   QUARTERS,   BEAUVOIR 136 

IN  THE   LIBRARY   AT   BEAUVOIR 139 

A  CORNER   IN   THE  LIBRARY,  BEAUVOIR 143 

READING-ROOM   IN  THE   LIBRARY,   BEAUVOIR 146 

SLEEPING-ROOM  IN   THE   LIBRARY,  BEAUVOIR 148 

THE  POTTERY  OF  BILOXI 151 

SENATE-CHAMBER   AT  JACKSON 153 

governor's  mansion   at  JACKSON 155 

COTTON  AND   ITS   CAPITOL,  JACKSON,  MISSISSIPPI 157 

FORT   MASSACHUSETTS,  SHIP  ISLAND,  MISSISSIPPI 159 

"  SHE    PAUSED    AND    TALKED,    WITH    MANY    COQUETTISH    LITTLE 

graces" 163 

ON  A  HOTEL  PORCH,  TALLAHASSEE 167 

X 


PAGK 
'  *  WHILE  THE  PRETTIEST  GIRLS  WERE  ALL  IN  THE  DARKER  COR- 
NERS "     171 

ON  THE   PIAZZA  OF  THE  WINDSOR   HOTEL,  JACKSONVILLE  .      .      .175 

LAKE   WORTH 179 

DANCE  AT   THE  PONCE  DE   LEON 183 

IN  THE   GARDENS  FACING   THE  PONCE   DE  LEON 187 

A   BIT  OF   THE    COURT- YARD  OF   THE   PONCE   DE   LEON      .      .       .       .191 

AN   OLD  BIT   OF   ST.  AUGUSTINE 197 

A  STREET  IN  ST.  AUGUSTINE— THE  OLD  CHURCH  IN  THE  DISTANCE   201 

INN   ON   LOOKOUT  MOUNTAIN 209 

CHATTANOOGA  AND  MOCCASIN  BEND,  FROM   LOOKOUT  MOUNTAIN  .   213 

THE  TENNESSEE   RIVER   AT  CHATTANOOGA 215 

CHATTANOOGA,  FROM   THE  RIVER 218 

POINT   LOOKOUT,   LOOKOUT   MOUNTAIN 221 

SMELTING -WORKS,  CHATTANOOGA 223 

ENTRANCE   TO  A  COAL  MINE 225 

IN  THE  BLUE  RIDGE  RANGE 227 

MARKET   STREET,   CHATTANOOGA   229 

COURT-HOUSE,  CHATTANOOGA 231 

FIRST   BAPTIST   CHURCH,  CHATTANOOGA 232 

POST-OFFICE,  BIRMINGHAM 233 

PEACHTREE   STREET,  ATLANTA       235 

MARIETTA  STREET,  ATLANTA 237 

THE   CAPITOL,  ATLANTA 239 

THE   GRADY  MONUMENT,  ATLANTA 241 

THE   LAKE,  GRANT  PARK,  ATLANTA 244 

THK   ZOOLOGICAL   GARDEN  AT   GRANT  PARK,  ATLANTA     ....    246 

THE  IRON  PALMETTO-TREE  AT  COLUMBIA 250 

AN   OLD  RESIDENCE,  CHARLESTON 253 

OLD   IRON   GATE,  CHARLESTON 255 

CAROLINA  HALL,  CHARLESTON 257 

CHARLESTON   CLUB  HOUSE 260 

THE   CUSTOM-HOUSE,   CHARLESTON 263 

ST.  MICHAEL'S  CHURCH,  CHARLESTON 265 

INTERIOR  OF  ST.  MICHAEL'S 267 

A  BIT   OF   CHARLESTON,  FROM   ST.  MICHAEL'S   CHURCH     ....    269 

ST.  PHILIP'S  CHURCH 270 

BUZZARDS  NEAR   THE  MARKET 271 

xi 


PAGE 

A  NEGRO  FUNERAL 273 

^_— PLANTING    RICE   ON   A  CAROLINA  PLANTATION 275 

THE   CAPITOL   AT   RALEIGH 277 

ENTRANCE  TO   ASSEMBLY   CHAMBER 278 

A  NICHE   IN   THE  CAPITOL 279 

RAILWAY   STATION   AT  RALEIGH 280 

governor's  mansion,  RALEIGH 281 

A  TOBACCO  MARKET  IN   NORTH  CAROLINA '    .    283 

STATE  PRISON,  RALEIGH 284 

STOCKADE  AT  THE   STATE  PRISON,  RALEIGH 285 

PREPARING  TUBEROSE   BULBS  FOR  THE  NORTHERN  MARKET    .      .    287 

A  WILMINGTON   RESIDENCE 288 

A  CAROLINA   MANSION 289 

FERRY  AND   NAVAL   STORES,  WILMINGTON 291 

COURT-HOUSE   AND   CITY   HALL,  WILMINGTON       .       .       ...       .       .       .    292 

AGRICULTURAL   SCHOOL  AND  DORMITORIES,  RALEIGH       ....    293 

PHOSPHATE  MINES  NEAR  WILMINGTON 295 

NEGRO  CEMETERY   AT  WILMINGTON 297 

INTERIOR  OP   A  MOUNTAIN   CABIN 301 

THE  OLD  TAVERN  IN  THE  VALLEY 305 

THE  CIRCUIT-RIDER 309 

A  FOOT-BRIDGE,  WEST   VIRGINIA 313 

MOUNTAIN  WOMEN 317 

THE  UNITED   STATES  MAIL  IN   THE   MOUNTAINS 321 

A  PRIVATE  HUNTER 325 

OLD  MOUNTAIN   TYPE '.      .      .    327 

A  NATIVE   SPORTSMAN 331 

A  mountaineer's  cabin 335 

EASY-GOING   NEGROES  IN   THE   MARKET-SPACE 339 

THE   STEPS  OP   THE   CAPITOL 343 

IN  THE  ROTUNDA  OP  THE  CAPITOL 347 

IN  THE   WHISPERING    GALLERY   OF  THE   CAPITOL 351 

THE  WHITE   HOUSE   ENTRANCE 353 

IN  THE   TOP  OF  THE   WASHINGTON  MONUMENT 355 

EXCITING    SCENE   IN   THE  HOUSE   OF  REPRESENTATIVES    ....    359 

FEMALE  LOBBYISTS 363 

PRESS  GALLERY  IN  THE   SENATE 367 

"IDLE   TIME  NOT  IDLY   SPENT" 377 

xii 


DIXIE 

OR 

SOUTHEEN  SCENES  AND  SKETCHES 


THE   OLD  WAY   TO   DIXIE 

It  was  quite  by  accident  that  I  heard,  while  in  St.  Louis, 
that  I  could  go  all  the  way  down  the  Mississippi  to  New 
Orleans  in  one  of  a  fleet  of  packets  that  differ  in  no  ma- 
terial way  from  those  which  figure  in  a  score  of  ante 
helium  novels  like  Uncle  Tom^s  Cdbin^  and  which  illumi- 
nate our  Northern  notions  of  life  in  the  South  when  its 
planters  basked  in  the  glory  of  their  feudal  importance. 

I  could  see  the  mighty  river  during  a  journey  as  long 
as  that  from  New  York  to  Liverpool ;  could  watch  the 
old-fashioned  methods  of  the  Simon  Pure  negro  rousta- 
bouts at  work  with  the  freight ;  could  gossip  and  swap 
stories  with  the  same  sort  of  pilots  about  whom  I  had 
read  so  much  ;  could  see  many  a  slumbering  Southern 
town  unmodernized  by  railroads  ;  could  float  past  plan- 
tations, and  look  out  upon  old-time  planters'  mansions ; 
and  could  actually  see  hard  winter  at  St.  Louis  merge 
into  soft  and  beauteous  spring  at  Y icksburg,  and  become 
summer  with  a  bound  at  New  Orleans. 

More  wonderful  than  all  besides,  I  could  cast  my  lines 
off  from  the  general  world  of  to-day  to  float  back  into  a 
past  era,  there  to  loaf  away  a  week  of  utter  rest,  undis- 
turbed by  a  telegraph  or  telephone,  a  hotel  elevator  or  a 
clanging  cable-car,  surrounded  by  comfort,  fed  from  a 
good  and  generous  kitchen,  and  at  liberty  to  forget  the 
rush  and  bustle  of  that  raging  monster  which  the  French 
call  \X\Qfin  de  siecle. 


:^\^  ^  ^"'Aiiti  how  many  do  it?"  I  asked. 

"  Very  few  indeed,"  was  the  reply  ;  "  not  as  many  on 
the  best  boat  in  a  season  as  used  to  take  passage  for  a 
single  trip.  The  boats  are  not  advertised  ;  the  world 
has  forgotten  that  they  are  still  running." 

The  only  company  that  maintains  these  boats  is  the 
old  Anchor  Line,  and  there  are  no  departures  for  New 
Orleans  except  on  Wednesdays ;  but  this  was  Saturday, 
the  sailing  day  for  Natchez,  only  272  miles  from  the  end 
of  the  route,  and  therefore  serving  well  for  so  bold  an 
experiment.  I  packed  up  at  the  Southern  Hotel,  and 
was  on  board  the  City  of  Providence^  Captain  George 
Carveli,  master,  an  hour  before  five  o'clock,  the  adver- 
tised sailing  hour.  The  strange,  the  absolutely  charm- 
ing disregard  for  nineteenth-century  bustle  was  appar- 
ent in  the  answer  to  the  very  first  question  I  asked. 
"  Does  she  start  sharp  at  five  o'clock  ?" 
"  No,  not  sharp  ;  a  little  dull,  I  expect." 
The  City  of  Providence  lay  with  her  landing-planks 
hoisted  up  ahead  of  her  like  the  claws  of  a  giant  lob- 
ster. She  was  warped  to  a  wharf-boat  that  was  heaped 
with  barrels,  boxes,  and  bags,  and  alive  with  negroes. 
At  a  rough  guess  I  should  say  there  were  125  of  these 
black  laborers,  in  every  variety  of  rags,  like  the  beggars 
who  "  come  to  town  "  in  the  old  nursery  rhyme.  Al- 
ready they  interested  me.  Now  they  w^ould  jog  along 
rolling  barrels  aboard  with  little  spiked  sticks,  next  they 
appeared  each  with  a  bundle  of  brooms  on  his  shoulder, 
and  in  another  two  minutes  the  long,  zigzagging,  sham- 
bling line  was  metamorphosed  into  a  wriggling  sinuosity 
formed  of  soap-boxes,  or  an  unsteady  line  of  flour-bags, 
each  with  ragged  legs  beneath  it,  or  a  procession  of 
baskets  or  of  bundles  of  laths.  As  each  one  picked  up 
an  article  of  freight  an  overseer  told  him  its  destina- 
tion.    The  negro  repeated  this,  and  kept  on  repeating 


ROUSTABOUTS 

it  in  a  singsong  tone  as  he  shambled  along,  until  one 
of  the  mates  on  the  boat  heard  him  and  told  him  where 
to  put  it  down,  the  study  of  the  mate  being  to  distrib- 
ute the  cargo  evenly,  and  to  see  that  all  packages  sent 
to  any  given  landing  were  kept  together.  It  seemed 
to  me  that  all  the  foremen  and  mates  were  selected  for 
their  conscientious  intention  to  keep  their  hands  in  their 
trousers  pockets  under  all  circumstances,  for  their  harsh 
and  grating  voices,  and  for  their  ability  to  say  a  great 
deal  and  not  have  a  word  of  it  understood  by  your  hum- 
ble servant,  the  writer. 

The  roustabouts  looked  all  of  one  hue,  from  their 
shoes  to  the  tops  of  their  heads.  Their  coffee-colored 
necks  and  faces  matched  their  reddish-brown  clothes, 
that  had   been  grimed   with  the  dust  of  everything 

3 


known  to  man — which  dust  also  covered  their  shoes 
and  bare  feet,  and  made  both  appear  the  same.  When 
a  huddle  went  off  the  boat  empty-handed  they  looked 
like  so  many  big  rats.  They  loaded  the  Providence's 
lower  deck  inside  and  out ;  they  loaded  her  upper  deck 
where  the  chairs  for  the  passengers  had  seemed  to  be 
supreme  ;  and  then  they  loaded  the  roof  over  that  deck 
and  the  side  spaces  until  her  sides  were  sunk  low  down 
near  the  river's  surface,  and  she  bristled  at  every  point 
with  boxes,  bales,  agricultural  implements,  brooms,  car- 
riages, bags,  and,  as  the  captain  remarked,  "  Heaven  only 
knows  what  she  'ain't  got  aboard  her."  The  mates 
roared,  the  negroes  talked  all  the  time,  or  sung  to  rest 
their  mouths,  the  boat  kept  settling  in  the  water,  and  the 
mountains  of  freight  swelled  at  every  point.  It  was  well 
said  that  twenty  ordinary  freight  trains  on  a  railroad  would 
not  carry  as  much  freight  as  was  stowed  aboard  of  her,  and 
I  did  not  doubt  the  man  who  remarked  to  me  that  Avhen 
such  a  boat,  so  laden,  discharged  her  cargo  loosely  at 
one  place,  it  often  made  a  pile  bigger  than  the  boat  itself. 
The  City  of  Providence  was  one  of  a  long  line  of  Mis- 
sissippi boats  edging  the  broad,  clean,  sloping  levee  that 
fronts  busy  St.  Louis.  She  was  by  far  the  largest  and 
handsomest  of  the  packets ;  but  all  are  of  one  type,  and 
that  is  worth  describing.  They  are,  so  far  as  I  remem- 
ber, all  painted  white,  and  are  very  broad  and  low. 
Each  carries  two  tall  black  funnels,  capped  with  a  bulg- 
ing ornamental  top,  and  carrying  on  rods  swung  between 
the  funnels  the  trade-mark  of  the  company  cut  out  of 
sheet-iron — an  anchor  or  an  initial  letter,  a  fox  or  a  swan, 
or  whatever.  There  are  three  or  four  stories  to  these 
boats  :  first  the  open  main-deck  for  freight  and  for  the 
boilers  and  engines  ;  then  the  walled-in  saloon-deck, 
with  a  row  of  windows  and  doors  cut  alternately  close 
beside  one  another,  and  with  profuse  ornamentation  by 

4 


means  of  jig-saw  work  wherever  it  can  be  put ;  and, 
last  of  all,  the  "Texas,"  or  officers'  quarters,  and  the 
"  bureau,"  or  negro  passengers'  cabin,  forming  the  third 
story.  Most  of  the  large  boats  have  the  big  square 
pilot-house  on  top  of  the  "  Texas,"  but  others  carry  it 
as  part  of  the  third  story  in  front  of  the  "  Texas."  The 
pilot-house  is  always  made  to  look  graceful  by  means 
of  an  upper  fringe  of  jig-saw  ornament,  and  usually 
carries  a  deer's  head  or  pair  of  antlers  in  front  of  it. 
We  would  call  it  enormous ;  a  great  square  room  with 
space  in  it  for  a  stove,  chairs,  the  wheel,  the  pilots,  and, 
in  more  than  one  boat  that  I  saw,  a  sofa  or  cushion  laid 


THE   "TEXAS 
5 


over  the  roof  of  the  gangway  from  below.  The  sides 
and  back  of  the  house  are  made  principally  of  sliding 
window-sashes.  The  front  of  the  house,  through  which 
the  pilots  see  their  course,  is  closable  by  means  of  a  door 
hinged  into  sections,  and  capable  of  being  partially  or 
fully  opened,  as  the  state  of  the  weather  permits.  The 
wheel  of  one  of  these  great  packets  is  very  large,  and 
yet  light.  It  is  made  as  if  an  ordinary  Eastern  or  ^N'orth- 
ern  whefel  had  been  put  in  place  and  then  its  spokes  had 
grown  two  feet  beyond  its  rim,  and  had  had  another 
rim  and  handles  added.  There  are  many  sharp  bends 
in  the  river,  and  I  afterwards  often  saw  the  pilots  using 
both  hands  and  one  foot  to  spin  the  big  circle,  until  the 
rudder  was  "hard  over"  on  whichever  side  they  want- 
ed it. 

These  Mississippi  packets  of  the  first  and  second  class 
are  very  large  boats,  and  roominess  is  the  most  striking 
characteristic  of  every  part  of  them.  They  look  light, 
frail,  and  inflammable,  and  so  they  are.  The  upright 
posts  that  rise  from  the  deck  of  such  a  boat  to  support 
the  saloon-deck  are  mere  little  sticks,  and  everything 
above  them,  except  the  funnels,  is  equally  slender  and 
thin.  These  boats  are  not  like  ours  at  any  point  of  their 
make-up.  They  would  seem  to  a  man  from  the  coast 
not  to  be  the  handiwork  of  ship-builders  ;  indeed,  there 
has  been  no  apparent  eifort  to  imitate  the  massive  beams, 
the  peculiar  "  knees,"  the  freely  distributed  "  bright- 
work"  of  polished  brass,  the  neat,  solid  joiner-work,  or 
the  thousand  and  one  tricks  of  construction  and  orna- 
ment which  distinguish  the  work  of  our  coast  boat- 
builders.  These  river  boats  —  and  I  include  all  the 
packets  that  come  upon  the  Mississippi  from  its  tribu- 
taries—are more  like  the  work  of  carpenters  and  house- 
builders.  It  is  as  if  their  model  had  been  slowly  devel- 
oped from  that  of  a  barge  to  that  of  a  house-boat,  or 


IIOUSTABOUTS  GETTING  UNDER  WAY 


barge  with  a  roof  over  it ;  then  as  if  a  house  for  passen- 
gers had  been  built  on  top  of  the  first  roof,  and  the 
"  Texas "  and  "  bureau "  had  followed  on  the  second 
roof.  Pictures  of  the  packets  scarcely  show  how  un- 
like our  boats  these  are,  the  difference  being  in  the 
methods  of  workmanship.  Each  story  is  built  merely 
of  sheathing,  and  in  the  best  boats  the  doors  and  fan- 
lights are  hung  on  without  frames  around  them — all 
loose  and  thin,  as  if  they  never  encountered  cold  weather 
or  bad  storms.  All  the  boats  that  I  saw  are  as  nearly 
alike  in  all  respects  as  if  one  man  had  built  them.  I 
was  told  that  the  great  packets  cost  only  |70,000  to 
$100,000,  so  that  the  mere  engine  in  a  first-class  At- 
lantic coast  river  or  sound  boat  is  seen  to  be  of  more 

7 


value  than  one  of  these  huge  packets,  and  a  prime  reason 
for  the  difference  in  construction  suggests  itself.  But 
these  great,  comfortable  vessels  serve  their  purpose  where 
ours  could  not  be  used  at  all,  and  are  altogether  so  use- 
ful and  appropriate,  as  well  as  picturesque  and  attract- 
ive to  an  Eastern  man,  that  there  is  not  room  in  my 
mind  for  aught  than  praise  of  them. 

It  was  after  six  o'clock  when  the  longshore  hands 
were  drawn  up  in  line  on  the  wharf-boat  and  our  own 
crew  of  forty  roustabouts  came  aboard.  To  one  of  these 
I  went  and  asked  how  many  men  were  in  the  long 
brown  line  on  shore. 

"  Dam  if  I  know,  boss,"  said  the  semi-barbarian,  with 
all  the  politeness  he  knew,  which  was  none  at  all,  of 
word  or  manner.  It  occurred  to  me  afterwards  that 
since  everybody  swears  at  these  roustabouts,  an  occa- 
sional oath  in  return  is  scarcely  the  interest  on  the  pro- 
fanity each  one  lays  up  every  year. 

In  a  few  moments  the  great  island  of  joiner- work  and 
freight  crawled  away  from  the  levee  and  out  upon  the 
yellow,  rain-pelted  river,  with  long-drawn  gasps,  as  if 
she  were  a  monster  that  had  been  asleep  and  was  slowly 
and  regretfully  waking  up.  How  often  every  one  who 
has  read  either  the  records  or  the  romances  of  our  South 
and  West  has  heard  of  the  noise  that  a  packet  sends 
through  the  woods  and  over  the  swamps  to  strike  terror 
to  the  soul  of  a  runaway  darky  who  has  never  heard 
the  sound,  or  to  apprise  waiting  passengers  afar  off  that 
their  boat  is  on  its  way !  It  is  nothing  like  the  puff ! 
puff !  of  the  ordinary  steam  motor ;  it  is  a  deep,  hol- 
low, long-drawn,  regular  breathing — lazy  to  the  last 
degree,  like  the  grunt  of  a  sleeping  pig  that  is  dream- 
ing. It  is  made  by  two  engines  alternately,  and  as  it 
travels  up  the  long  pipes  and  is  shot  out  upon  the  air 
it  seems  not  to  come  from  the  chest  of  a  demon,  but 


^p   >^."-,-  /i^l} 


^m^ 


from  the  very  heels  of  some  cold-blooded,  half-torpid, 
prehistoric  loafer  of  the  alligator  kind.  To  the  river 
passenger  in  his  bed  courting  sleep  it  is  a  sound  more 
soothing  than  the  patter  of  rain  on  a  farm-house  roof. 

I  had  been  in  my  state-room,  and  found  it  the  largest 
one  that  I  had  ever  seen  on  a  steamboat.  It  had  a 
double  bed  in  it,  and  there  was  room  for  another.  There 
was  a  chair  and  a  marble-topped  wash-stand,  a  carpet, 
and  there  were  curtains  on  the  glazed  door  and  the  long 
window  that  formed  the  top  of  the  outer  wall.  The 
supper -bell  rang,  and  I  stepped  into  the  saloon,  which 
was  a  great  chamber,  all  cream- white,  touched  with  gold. 
The  white  ribs  of  the  white  ceiling  were  close  together 
over  the  whole  saloon's  length  of  250  feet,  and  each  rib 
was  upheld  by  most  ornate  supports,  also  white,  but 
hung  with  gilded  pendants.  Colored  fanlights  let  in 
the  light  by  day,  and  under  them  other  fanlights  served 
to  share  the  brilliant  illumination  in  the  saloon  with  the 
state  -  rooms  on  either  side.  At  the  forward  end  of  the 
saloon  were  tables  spread  and  set  for  the  male  passen- 
gers. At  the  other  end  sat  the  captain  and  the  married 
ladies  and  girls,  and  such  men  as  came  with  them.  The 
chairs  were  all  white,  like  the  walls,  the  table-cloths,  and 
the  aprons  of  the  negro  servants,  who  stood  like  bronze 
statues  awaiting  the  orders  of  the  passengers.  The  sup- 
per proved  to  be  well  cooked  and  nicely  served.  As  the 
fare  to  New  Orleans  was  about  the  same  as  the  price  of 
a  steerage  ticket  to  Europe,  it  was  pleasant  to  know  that 
the  meals,  which  were  included  in  the  bargain,  were  go- 
ing to  be  as  admirable  as  everything  else. 

After  supper  I  was  asked  to  go  up  into  the  pilot-house, 
then  in  charge  of  Louis  Moan  and  James  Parker,  both 
veterans  on  the  river,  both  good  story-tellers,  and  as 
kindly  and  pleasant  a  pair  as  ever  lightened  a  journey 
at  a  wheel  or  in  a  cabin.     That  night,  when  a  dark  pall 

10 


hung  all  around  the  boat,  with  only  here  and  there  a 
yellow  glimmer  showing  the  presence  of  a  house  or  gov- 
ernment light  ashore,  these  were  spectral  men  at  a  shad- 
owy wheel.  In  time  it  was  possible  to  see  that  the  house 
was  half  as  big  as  a  railroad  car,  that  Captain  Car  veil 
was  in  a  chair  smoking  a  pipe,  that  the  gray  sheet  far 
below  was  the  river,  and  that  there  was  an  indefina- 
ble something  near  by  on  one  side  which  the  pilots  had 
agreed  to  regard  as  the  left-hand  shore.  They  said 
"  right "  and  "  left,"  and  spoke  of  the  smoke  -  stacks  as 
"chimneys."  But  over  and  through  and  around  the 
scene  came  the  periodic  gasp  —  shoo-whoo — from  the 
great  smoke  -  stacks,  as  gusts  of  wind  on  a  bleak  shore 
would  sound  if  they  blew  at  regular  intervals. 

Back  in  the  blaze  of  light  in  the  cabin  I  saw  that  the 
women  had  left  their  tables,  and  were  gathered  around 
a  stove  at  their  end  of  the  room,  precisely  as  the  men 
had  done  at  theirs.  The  groups  were  150  feet  apart, 
and  showed  no  more  interest  in  one  another  than  if 
they  had  been  on  separate  boats.  I  observed  that  at 
the  right  hand  of  the  circle  of  smoking  men  was  the 
neatly  kept  bar  in  a  sort  of  alcove  bridged  across  by  a 
counter.  Matching  it,  on  the  other  side  of  the  boat,  was 
the  office  of  Mr.  O.  W.  Moore,  the  clerk.  To  Mr.  Moore 
I  offered  to  pay  my  fare,  but  he  said  there  was  no  hur- 
ry, he  guessed  my  money  would  keep.  To  the  bar- 
tender I  said  that  if  he  had  made  the  effervescent 
draught  which  I  drank  before  supper  I  desired  to  com- 
pliment him.  "  Thank  you,  sir,"  said  he ;  "  you  are  very 
kind."  How  pleasant  was  the  discovery  that  I  made 
on  my  first  visit  to  the  South,  that  in  that  part  of  our 
Union  no  matter  how  humble  a  white  man  is  he  is  in- 
stinctively polite !  Not  that  I  call  a  bartender  on  a  Mis- 
sissippi boat  a  humble  personage;  he  merely  recalled 
the  general  fact  to  my  mind. 

11 


.jr' 


SALOON   ORNAMENT 


The  boat  stopped  at  a  land- 
ing, and  it  was  as  if  it  had  died. 
There  was  no  sound  of  running 
about  or  of  yelling ;  there  was 
simply  deathlike  stillness.  There 
was  a  desk  and  a  student-lamp 
in  the  great  cabin,  and,  alas  for 
the  unities !  on  the  desk  lay  a 
pad  of  telegraph  blanks — "  the 
mark  of  the  beast !"  But  they 
evidently  were  only  a  bit  of  ac- 
cidental drift  from  wide-awake 
St.  Louis,  and  not  intended  for 
the  passengers,  because  the  clerk  came  out  of  his  office, 
swept  them  into  a  drawer,  and  invited  me  to  join  him 
in  a  game  of  tiddledywinks.  He  added  to  the  calm 
pleasures  of  the  game  by  telling  of  a  Kentucky  girl 
eleven  feet  high,  who  stood  at  one  end  of  a  very 
wide  table  and  shot  the  disks  into  the  cup  from  both 
sides  of  the  table  without  changing  her  position.  I 
judged  from  his  remarks  that  she  was  simply  a  tall 
girl  who  played  well  at  tiddledywinks.  No  man  likes 
to  be  beaten  at  his  own 
game,  the  tools  for  which 
he  carries  about  with  him. 
Even  princes  of  the  blood 
royal  show  annoyance  when 
it  happens. 

I  slept  like  a  child  all 
night,  and  mentioned  the 
fact  at  the  breakfast  table, 
where  the  men  all  spoke  to 
one  another  and  the  clerk 
addressed  each  of  us  by 
name  as  if  we  were  in  a 


SALOON   ORNAMENT 


12 


boarding-house.  Every  one  smiled  when  1  said  that  the 
boat's  noise  did  not  disturb  me. 

"  Why,  we  tied  up  to  a  tree  all  night,"  said  the  clerk, 
^'  and  did  not  move  a  yard  until  an  hour  ago." 

At  this  breakfast  we  had  a  very  African-looking  dish 
that  somehow  suggested  the  voudoo.  It  appeared  like 
a  dish  of  exaggerated  canary  seed  boiled  in  tan-bark. 

"  Dat  dere,"  said  my  waiter,  "  is  sumping  you  doan' 
git  in  no  hotels.  It's  jambuUade.  Dey  done  make  it 
ob  rice,  tomatoes,  and  brekfus'  bacon  or  ham;-  but  ef 
dey  put  in  oysters  place  ob  de  ham,  it's  de  fines'  in  de 
Ian'." 

I  had  not  been  long  enough  in  the  atmosphere  of 
Mississippi  travel  to  avoid  wofrying  about  the  loss  of  a 
whole  night  while  we  were  tied  up  to  the  shore.  There 
had  been  a  fog,  I  was  told,  and  to  proceed  would  have 
been  dangerous.  Yet  I  was  bound  for  New  Orleans  for 
Mardi-gras,  and  had  only  time  to  make  it,  according  to 
the  boat's  schedule.  But  I  had  not  fathomed  a  tithe  of 
the  mysteries  of  this  riv^er  travel. 

"  It's  too  bad  we're  so  late,"  I  said  to  Mr.  Todd,  the 
steward. 

"  We  ain't  late,"  said  he. 

"  I  thought  we  laid  up  overnight,"  I  said. 

"  So  we  did,"  said  he.  "  But  that  ain't  goin'  to  make 
any  difference;  we  don't  run  so  close  to  time  as  all 
that." 

"  Don't  get  excited,"  said  Captain  Carvell ;  "  you  are 
going  to  have  the  best  trip  you  ever  made  in  your 
life.  And  if  we  keep  a-layin'  up  nights,  all  you've  got 
to  do  is  to  step  ashore  at  Cairo  or  Memphis  or  Natchez 
and  take  the  cars  into  New  Orleans  quicker'n  a  wink. 
You  can  stay  with  us  till  the  last  minute  before  you've 
got  to  be  in  New  Orleans,  and  then  the  cars  '11  take  you 
there  all  right.     I  only  wish  it  was  April  'stead  of  Feb- 

13 


THE   PILOT 


ruary.  Then  you  leave  a  right  cold  climate  in  the 
North,  and  you  get  along  and  see  flowers  all  a-bloom- 
ing  and  roses  a- blushing.  Why,  sir,  I've  been  making 
this  run  thirty-nine  years,  and  I  enjoy  it  yet." 

"  Come  up  in  the  pilot-house,"  said  Mr.  Moan.  "  Bring 
your  pipe  and  tobacco  and  your  slippers,  and  leave  'em 
up  there,  so's  to  make  yourself  at  home.  You're  going 
to  live  with  us  nigh  on  to  a  w^eek,  you  know,  and  you 
ought  to  be  friendly." 

It  was  by  this  tone,  caught  from  each  officer  to  whom 
I  spoke,  that  I,  all  too  slowly,  imbibed  the  calm  and 
restful  spirit  of  the  voyage.  Nothing  made  any  differ- 
ence, or  gave  cause  to  borrow  trouble — not  even  hitch- 
ing up  to  the  river-bank  now  and  then  for  a  night  or 
two. 

We  had  been  at  Chester  for  nearly  an  hour.  The 
clerk  went  ashore,  visiting,  and  disappeared  up  the  main 
street.  We  were  to  take  on  500  barrels  of  flour,  and  for 
a  long  while  these  had  been  jolting  and  creaking  and 
spurting  out  little  white  wisps  of  powder  as  the  black 
crew  rolled  them  aboard.  The  pilot  remarked,  as  he 
looked  down  at  the  scene,  that  when  we  came  to  leave 
we  would  not  really  get  away,  because  we  must  drop 
down  to  a  mill  half  a  mile  down  stream,  and  then  to  a 
warehouse  farther  along,  and  then,  "if  there  are  any 
other  stops  near  by,  some  one  will  run  down  with  a 
flag,  or  a  white  handkerchief,  and  call  us." 

I  alone  was  impatient — the  only  curse  on  the  happy 
condition.  In  the  middle  of  a  lifetime  of  catching  trains 
and  riding  watch  in  hand  I  found  that  I  did  not  know 
how  to  behave  or  how  to  school  myself  for  a  natural, 
restful  situation  such  as  this.  I  felt  that  I  belonged  in 
the  world,  and  that  this  was  not  it.  This  was  dream- 
land—an Occidental  Arabia.  True,  we  were  moved  by 
steam,  we  lifted  the  landing-stages  by  steam,  and  swung 

15 


red  farm  wagons  to  the  hurricane-deck  and  blew  whis- 
tles, all  by  steam ;  but  it  was  steam  hypnotized  and  put 
to  sleep.  Could  I  not  hear  it  snore  through  the  smoke- 
stacks w^henever  the  engineer  disturbed  it?  As  we 
swung  away  from  Chester,  Mr.  Moan  pointed  across 
the  river  and  said  : 

"  That's  Claraville  over  there.  It's  a  tidy  place.  Been 
that  way  since  I  was  a  boy.  It  don't  grow,  but  it  holds 
its  own." 

I  harbored  the  hope  that  I  w^ould  appreciate  that  re- 
mark, and  the  spirit  which  engendered  it,  in  five  days 
or  so  of  life  on  the  lazy  boat.  Even  then  I  could  see 
that  it  was  something  to  "hold  one's  own."  It  was 
an  effort,  and  perhaps  a  strain.  It  is  more  than 
we  men  and  women  are  able  to  do  for  any  length  of 
time. 

We  pushed  high  up  a  stony  bank  at  a  new  place. 
Again  the  clerk  went  ashore,  and  this  time  the  captain 
followed  him.  Another  wabbling  stream  of  flour-barrels 
issued  from  a  warehouse  and  rolled  into  the  boat.  I 
think  I  began  to  feel  less  forced  resignation  and  more 
at  ease.  I  was  drifting  into  harmony  with  my  surround- 
ings. It  was  still  a  little  strange  that  the  voices  on 
shore  were  all  using  English  words.  Spanish  or  Arabic 
would  have  consorted  better  with  the  hour.  As  a  happy 
makeshift  a  negro  came  out  and  sat  on  a  barrel  and 
played  a  jews-harp.  He  was  ragged  and  slovenly,  and 
was  the  only  black  man  not  at  work ;  but  perhaps  a 
man  cannot  work  steadily  and  do  justice  to  a  jews-harp 
at  the  same  time.  He  turned  his  genius  upon  a  lively 
tune,  and  the  serpentlike  stream  of  barrels  began  to  flow 
faster  under  the  negroes'  hands,  as  if  it  were  a  current 
of  molasses  and  the  music  had  warmed  it.  The  church 
bells — for  it  was  Sunday — broke  upon  the  air  at  a  dis- 
tance; at  just  the  right  distance,  so  that  they  sounded 

16 


soft  and  religious.  The 
sun  was  out.  Only  one 
other  thing  was  needed — 
tobacco. 

When  I  w^ent  to  get  my 
pipe,  the  youngest  of  the 
ladies  in  the  saloon  w^as  at 
the  piano,  and  "  A  Starry 
Night  for  a  Ramble  "  was 
trickling:  from  her  fino^ers' 
ends.  I  dropped  into  a 
chair  to  listen,  and  to 
think  how  prone  the 
Southern  folk  are  to  in- 
sist upon  a  recognition  of 
caste  in  every  relation  of 
life.  First,  the  captain  at 
the  head  of  all,  then  the 
ladies  and  their  male  es- 
corts— these  were  the  ar- 
istocrats of  the  boat.  The 
lonely  male  passengers 
were  the  middle  class, 
graciously  permitted  to 
sleep  on  the  saloon-deck. 
Finally,  the  negro  passen- 
gers and  the  petty  officers 

were  sent  up  above,  to  quarters  far  from  the  rest.  But 
the  young  lady  saw  me  sitting  there,  and  the  music 
stopped.  She  left  the  piano  stool  with  a  flirt  of  her 
skirt;  not  a  violent  motion  of  the  whole  back  of  her 
dress,  as  if  she-w^as  really  "put  out"  by  my  intrusion, 
but  just  a  faint  little  snap  at  the  very  tail  of  the  elo- 
quent garment.  How  many  languages  women  have! 
They  have  one  of  the  tongue,  like  ours;  one  of  the 
B  17 


is  fixed  for  life,  boss,  if  de 
gover'ment  done  hotJd  out" 


/ 


silent,  mobile  lips,  as  when  school-girls  talk  without  be- 
ing heard ;  one  of  the  eyes ;  one  of  their  spirits,  that  rise 
into  vivacity  for  those  they  love  or  seek  to  please,  and 
that  sink  into  moodiness  or  languor  near  those  they 
don't  care  for ;  and  finally,  this  of  the  skirts. 

But  that  was  only  a  faint  whip  of  the  very  tail  of  the 
skirt,  down  by  the  hem.  It  hinted  to  me  that  we  were 
to  become  acquainted  soon.  There  was  plenty  of  time ; 
I  would  not  hurry  it. 

I  went  to  my  great  comfortable  room  and  experi- 
mented with  the  locked  door  which  was  opposite  the 
entrance.  It  opened,  and  let  out  upon  the  outer  deck, 
past  all  the  other  state  -  room  doors.  That  was  ex- 
quisite. It  was  like  part  of  a  typical  Southern  home, 
with  the  parlor  opening  out  on  a  veranda  over  a  river. 
I  was  reminded  of  the  first  true  Southern  house  I  ever 
stopped  at,  in  the  Blue  Eidge  Mountains.  There  were 
two  long  arms  in  front  of  the  main  building,  and  the 
rooms  in  these  arms  had  a  door  and  a  window  at  each 
end.  I  was  enraptured  with  my  good  fortune  until 
night  came,  when  I  discovered  that  neither  window 
sported  a  catch  and  neither  door  had  a  lock.  I  might  as 
well,  I  might  better,  have  been  put  to  bed  in  the  fields. 
All  the  stories  of  murder  I  had  heard  during  the  day 
— and  they  were  plenty  —  came  back,  and  sat  on  the 
edge  of  the  bed  with  me.  I  complained  in  the  morn- 
ing, and  the  proprietor  laughed,  and  said  there  was 
not  a  lock  on  a  door  in  the  county.  They  mur- 
dered there,  but  they  did  not  rob.  That  was  a  con- 
solation. 

The  Mississippi  proved  not  so  unlike  a  Northern  river 
as  might  have  been  expected.  The  Hudson  is  as  wide 
in  some  places,  and  I  have  seen  parts  of  Lake  Ontario 
with  just  such  shores.  Fields  of  grain  ran  to  the  edge 
of  the  bluff,  and  here  and  there  were  houses  and  patches 

18 


of  trees.  The  Illinois  side  was  a  long  reach  of  wooded 
bluff.  The  water  itself  was  mud.  Senator  Ingalls  is 
quoted  as  saying  that  it  was  "  too  thick  for  a  beverage 
and  too  thin  for  food."  Everywhere  the  yellow  water, 
running  the  same  way  as  the  boat,  seemed  to  outstrip  our 
vessel.  Everywhere  it  was  dotted  with  logs,  twigs,  and 
little  floating  islands  of  the  wreckage  of  the  Cottonwood 
thickets  of  Dakota  and  Montana,  perhaps  of  the  forests 
at  the  feet  of  the  Rocky  Mountains.  That  was  the  main 
peculiarity  of  the  river — the  presence  of  thousands  of 
tons  of  debris  floating  behind,  beside,  and  ahead  of  the 
steamboat.  Here  and  there  we  saw  a  "  government 
light,"  a  little  lantern  on  a  clean  white  frame-work,  sug- 
gesting an  immaculate  chicken-coop.  Men  who  live  in 
nearby  houses  get  ten  or  fifteen  dollars  a  month — the 
lights  being  of  two  grades  —  for  lighting  them  every 
night  and  putting  them  out  every  morning.  Mr.  Moan 
told  of  a  negro  down  below  where  we  were  who  gets 
fifteen  dollars  a  month  for  keeping  a  difficult  light,  and 
who,  on  being  asked  how  he  was  getting  along,  replied 
that  it  was  money  enough  for  the  keep  of  his  wife  and 
himself.  "  I's  fixed  for  life,  boss,"  he  said,  "  if  de  gov- 
er'ment  done  hold  out." 

I  noted  w^ith  keen  pleasure  that  neither  Pilot  Moan 
nor  Pilot  Parker  blew  the  w^histle  as  the  boat  was 
backed  off  the  mud  at  a  landing.  In  IS'ew  York  they 
would  surely  whistle  and  shriek  "  good-bye."  In  France 
they  would  blow  all  the  time.  The  Mississippi  plan  is 
better.  There  they  whistle  only  when  approaching  a 
landing,  "  to  notify  the  labor." 

For  miles  and  miles  we  floated  out  in  the  channel  and 
were  alone  in  the  world — we  and  the  distant  blue  hills, 
the  thin  bare  forests,  and  the  softly  speeding  stream. 
N'ot  a  house  or  a  fence  or  a  ploughed  acre  was  in  sight. 
What  a  country  ours  is !     How  much  room  it  offers  to 

19 


future  peoples !  They  are  not  hurrying — they  who  have 
so  much  more  at  stake  than  we  on  that  boat.  Why,theny 
needed  we  to  hurry  ?  When  a  house  or  a  village  hove  in 
sight,  it  was  not  always  wooden,  as  in  the  West.  Often 
the  warehouses,  the  mills,  and  even  the  manor-houses 
were  of  stone  or  brick.    Some  of  these  places  were  inac- 


A   MISSISSIPPI   STEAMBOAT   CAPTAIN 
20 


oessible  to  so  big  a  boat  as  the  Providence^  but  from  its 
decks  could  be  seen  little  waggle-tailed  stern- wheelers 
puffing  and  splashing  up  to  them  for  freight. 

At  one  stop  which  we  did  make,  Captain  Carvell  or- 
dered a  barge  pushed  out  of  the  way — "  so's  we  sha'n't 
make  a  bunglesome  landing,"  he  said.  The  nearest  great 
landing-stage,  a  long  gang-plank  hung  by  the  middle 
from  a  sort  of  derrick,  and  capable  of  connecting  the 
boat  with  a  hill  or  a  flat  surface,  was  let  down  on  the 
bank.  The  unavoidable  flour- barrels  came  head  fore- 
most along  a  wooden  slide  this  time,  and  a  darky  on  the 
boat  sang  an  incessant  line,  "-  Somebody  told  me  so,"  as 
a  warning  to  the  men  below  that  another  and  another 
barrel  was  coming.  They  are  fond  of  chanting  at  their 
work,  and  they  give  vent  to  whatever  comes  into  their 
heads,  and  then  repeat  it  thousands  of  times,  perhaps. 
It  is  not  always  a  pretty  sentence,  but  every  such  refrain 
serves  to  time  their  movements.  "  O  Lord  God !  you 
know  you  done  wrong,"  I  have  heard  a  negro  say  with 
each  bag  that  was  handed  to  him  to  lift  upon  a  pile. 
"  Been  a  slave  all  yo'  days ;  you  'ain't  got  a  penny 
saved,"  was  another  refrain  ;  and  still  another,  chanted 
incessantly,  was:  "Who's  been  here  since I's  been  gone? 
Big  buck  nigger  with  a  derby  on."  The}^  are  all  "  nig- 
gers "  once  you  enter  the  Southern  country.  Every  one 
calls  them  so,  and  they  do  not  often  vary  the  custom 
among  themselves. 

These  roustabouts  are  nothing  like  as  forward  as  the 
lowest  of  their  race  that  we  see  in  the  North.  Presum- 
ably they  are  about  what  the  "  field  hands  "  of  slavery 
times  were.  They  are  dull-eyed,  shambling  men,  dressed 
like  perambulating  rag-bags,  with  rags  at  the  sleeves,  up 
and  down  the  trousers,  at  the  hems  of  their  coats,  and 
the  rims  of  their  caps  and  hats.  A  man  who  makes  six 
changes  of  his  working  attire  every  year  by  contract 

21 


with  a  tailor  Avould  be  surprised  at  how  long  these  men 
keep  their  clothes.  Some  wear  coats  and  vests  and  no 
shirts  ;  some  wear  overcoats  and  shirts  and  no  vests  ; 
some  have  only  shirts  and  trousers  —  shirts  that  have 
lost  their  buttons,  perhaps,  and  flare  wide  open  to  the 
trousers  band,  showing  a  black  trunk  like  oiled  ebony. 
They  earn  a  dollar  a  day,  but  have  not  learned  to  save 
it.  They  are  very  dissipated,  and  are  given  to  carrying 
knives,  which  the  mates  take  away  from  the  most  un- 
ruly ones.  The  scars  on  many  of  their  bodies  show  to 
what  use  these  knives  are  too  often  put.  "  Who's  dat 
talkin'  'bout  cuttin'  out  some  one's  heart  ?"  I  heard  one 
say  as  he  slouched  along  in  the  roustabout  line.  "  Ef 
dar's  goin'  to  be  any  cuttin',  I  want  to  do  some.'^ 
Though  they  chant  at  their  work,  I  seldom  saw  them 
laugh  or  heard  them  sing  a  song,  or  knew  one  of  them 
to  dance  during  the  voyage.  The  work  is  hard,  and  they 
are  kept  at  it,  urged  constantly  by  the  mates  on  shore 
and  aboard,  as  the  Southern  folks  say  that  negroes  and 
mules  always  need  to  be.  But  the  roustabouts'  faults 
are  excessively  human,  after  all,  and  the  consequence 
of  a  sturdy  belief  that  they  need  sharper  treatment  than 
the  rest  of  us  leads  to  their  being  urged  to  do  more 
work  than  a  white  man.  There  were  nights  on  the 
Providence  when  the  landings  ran  close  together,  and 
the  poor  wretches  got  little  or  no  sleep.  They  "  tote  " 
all  the  freight  aboard  and  back  to  land  again  on  their 
heads  or  shoulders,  and  it  is  crushing  work.  Whenever 
the  old  barbaric  instinct  to  loaf,  or  to  move  by  threes  at 
one  man's  work,  would  prompt  them,  one  of  the  mates 
was  sure  to  spy  the  weakness  and  roar  at  the  culprits. 

The  mates  showed  no  actual  unkindness  or  severity 
while  I  was  on  that  boat.  But  they  all  —  on  all  the 
boats  —  have  fearsome  voices,  such  as  we  credit  to  pi- 
rate chiefs  on  "  low,  rakish,  black  boats  "  in  yellow-clad 

22 


THE  MATE  OP  A  MISSISSIPPI  BOAT- 


NOW,   THEN,   NIGGER 


novels.  Any  one  of  them  would  break  up  an  opera 
troupe.  They  rasp  at  the  darkies  in  their  business 
voices,  with  a  "  Run  up  the  plank,  nigger ;  now,  then, 
nigger,  get  wood  " — and  then  they  turn  and  speak  to  the 
passengers  in  their  Sunday  shore-leave  voices,  as  gently 
as  any  men  can  talk. 

Mr.  Halloran,  an  up-river  pilot  of  celebrity  who  was 
studying  the  lower  river,  told  me  that  he  remembered 
when  it  was  the  custom  for  the  mates  to  hit  the  lazy 
negroes  on  the  head  with  a  billet  of  wood,  "  and  knock 

23 


them  stiff."  The  other  negroes  used  to  laugh  (presum- 
ably as  the  sad-faced  man  laughed  when  the  photogra- 
pher clapped  a  pistol  to  his  head  and  said,  "  Smile,  — 
you,  or  I'll  shoot  you  ").  When  the  felled  negro  came 
to,  the  others  would  say, ''  Lep  up  quick  an'  git  to  work, 
nigger ;  de  mate's  a-coming."  They  do  not  urge  the  help 
with  cord-wood  now — so  the  mate  of  the  Providence  told 
me — because  the  negroes  get  out  warrants  and  delay  the 
boat. 

I  have  said  that  the  blacks  all  call  themselves  "  nig- 
gers." The  rule  has  its  exceptions.  I  went  ashore  at 
a  plantation  called  "  Sunny  side,"  and  saw  a  cheery  old 
"  aunty  "  standing  near  a  cabin  doorway  from  out  of 
which  pickaninnies  were  tumbling  like  ants  out  of  an 
ant-hill. 

"  How  many  children  have  you  got,  aunty  ?"  I  in- 
quired. 

"  I  'ain't  got  none  yere,"  she  said  ;  "  mine's  all  out  in 
de  fiel'.  Dese  yer  two  is  my  gran'chillen  ;  de  oders  I'm 
takin'  car'  of  fer  de  ladies  ob  de  neighborhood." 

There  was  a  fine  barber  shop  and  "  wash-room "  on 
the  packet,  and  the  barber  and  I  often  conversed,  with 
a  razor  between  us.  He  asked  me  once  how  I  liked  my 
hair  trimmed,  and  I  said  I  always  left  that  to  the  bar- 
ber. 

"  Dat's  c'rect,"  said  he  ;  "  you  kin  leave  it  to  me  safe- 
ly ;  and  you  kin  bet  I'm  more  dan  apt  to  do  it  in  de 
mos'  fashionablest  manner."  Then  he  turned  and  called  • 
to  his  assistant,  a  coal-black  boy  who  was  working  his 
way  to  New  Orleans.  "  Hey,  dere  !  you  nigger  !  Git 
me  a  high  stool  outen  de  pantry.  How  you  'spect  I's 
gwine  cut  de  gemmen's  ha'r  ef  I  doan'  hab  no  stool  ?" 

I  mentioned  the  fact  that  the  roustabouts  were  work- 
ing very  hard. 

"  Dat  dey  is,"  said  the  barber.     "  We  call  'em  '  roost- 

24 


€rs '  on  de  ribber,  but  rous'about  is  more  correc'.  Dey 
wuk  hard  night  an'  day,  an'  dey  git  mo'  kicks  dan  dol- 
lars. Ef  I  got  rejuced  so's  I  had  to  do  manual  labor,  I'd 
go  to  stealin'  'fo'  I'd  be  a  rooster.  Certain  su'  I  would, 
'cause  dey  couldn't 
wuk  a  man  no  harder 
in  de  penitentshuary 
ef  he  got  caught  dan 
dey  do  on  dese  boats." 
At  supper  on  the 
second  night  I  began 
to  find  fault  with  the 
custom  of  separating 
the  ladies  and  the  gen^ 
tlemen  by  the  length 
of  an  enormous  sa- 
loon. The  gulf  be- 
tween the  men  and 
women  was  yet  as 
wide  as  ev^er.  There 
they  sat  at  their  sepa- 
rate table.   Later  they 

would  make  a  ring  around  a  stove  of  their  own,  or 
retire  to  an  especial  saloon  called  "  the  nursery,"  Avhich 
spans  and  shuts  off  the  whole  back  end  of  the  boat — 
the  most  attractive  part  of  our  Northern  steamboats. 
There  were  four  women  and  a  little  baby  girl  on  this 
boat.  The  tiny  woman,  though  only  four  years  old,  had 
been  to  visit  me  during  the  afternoon,  and  had  told  me 
her  own  peculiar  version  of  Cinderella.  Poor  little  tot ! 
She  was  with  a  man  and  woman  whom  she  called  papa 
and  mamma,  but  they  made  the  cruel  mistake  of  telling 
everybody  that  she  was  a  little  orphan  waif,  the  child 
of  a  pauper,  and  that  they  had  adopted  her — the  last 
thing,  one  would  think,  that  they  would  noise  abroad. 

25 


DANCE   MUSIC   ON    A   STEAMBOAT 


I  wondered  whether  her  name  might  not  be  Cinderella, 
and  that  led  me  to  think  that  I  did  not  know  even  the 
name  of  the  youngest  of  the  grown  women,  who,  by- 
the-way,  was  only  eighteen  or  nineteen,  with  jet  hair, 
coal-black  laughing  eyes,  and  a  smiling  mouth  set  with 
pearls.  She  was  perfectly  formed,  and  being  beautiful, 
was  also  amiable,  for  there  can  be  no  true  beauty  in 
a  woman  who  is  not  sunny -hearted.  It  was  she  who 
played  the  piano  for  the  women — until  a  man  listened. 
Perhaps  another  time  I  may  be  able  to  enjoy  such  a 
restful  break  in  my  life  to  the  uttermost,  and  not  draw 
comparisons  or  seek  faults  to  find ;  yet  on  this  second 
night  I  was  unable  to  help  recalling  the  only  other  trip 
I  had  then  made  on  a  Southern  river.  It  was  on  the 
Ohio.  Half  the  passengers  were  Kentuckians.  As  soon 
as  the  boat  started,  a  negro  roustabout  was  hired  to  fid- 
dle in  the  saloon,  and  every  man  sought  a  partner  and 
fell  to  waltzing.  It  was  idyllic ;  it  was  a  snatch  of 
Arcadian  life,  of  Brittany  or  Switzerland  imported  to 
America.  A  young  Kentuckian,  who  introduced  him- 
self to  me  and  then  to  all  the  women,  kindly  intro- 
duced them  all  to  one  another  and  then  to  me.  That 
Avas  better  than  this  Mississippi  plan  of  putting  a  whole 
boat's  length  between  the  sexes.  This  suggested  a  float- 
ing synagogue. 

We  stopped  at  Cairo  on  the  second  morning  out,  and 
were  pulling  away  from  there  while  I  ate  my  breakfast. 
I  told  Captain  Carvell  that  I  was  sorry  to  have  missed 
seeing  that  important  town,  but  I  found  that,  as  before, 
my  regrets  were  groundless.  Nothing  is  missed  and 
nothing  makes  any  difference  on  that  phenomenal  line. 
"  You  won't  miss  Cairo,"  said  the  captain  ;  "  we  are  go- 
ing up  a  mile  to  get  some  pork,  and  down  half  a  mile  to 
get  some  flour.  We  shall  be  here  some  hours  yet."  I 
ate  a  leisurely  breakfast,  saw  the  town  to  my  heart's. 

26 


content,  and  was  back  on  the  boat  an  hour  before  it  got 
away  for  good.  A  railroad  train  whizzed  along  above 
the  levee  like  a  messenger  from  the  world  of  worry  and 
unrest,  and  I  looked  at  it  as  I  have  often  looked  at  a 
leopard  caged  in  a  menagerie.  It  could  not  get  at  me, 
I  knew. 

The  beautiful  black-eyed  girl  had  kept  in  the  ladies' 
end  of  the  saloon,  wrapped  up  in  Cinderella,  the  Chicago 
man's  tiny  daughter ;  but  on  this  day,  as  I  was  on  the 
upper  deck,  I  could  not  help  seeing  her  mount  the  lad- 
derlike stairs  to  the  pilot-house.  It  is  amazing  that  four 
women  and  half  a  dozen  men  should  have  been  together 
so  long  and  not  become  acquainted.  To  be  sure,  I  could 
have  followed  the  pretty  brunette  to  the  pilot-house  and 
been  introduced  by  one  of  the  pilots ;  but  there  w^as  no 
hurry.  Besides,  at  the  time,  a  young  commercial  trav- 
eller from  Providence  was  telling  me  of  his  uncertainty 
whether  or  not  he  was  in  love.  The  subject  of  his 
doubts  was  a  young  lady  whose  portrait  he  carried  in 
a  locket  which  he  kept  opening  incessantly. 

I  spent  much  time  every  day  in  the  pilot-house.  I 
heard  very  much  about  the  skill  and  knowledge  the 
river-pilot's  calling  required,  but  I  saw  even  more  than 
I  heard.  This  giant  river  does  not  impress  those  who 
study  it  with  its  greatness  so  much  as  with  its  eccen- 
tricities. It  runs  between  banks  that  are  called  earth, 
but  act  like  brown  sugar ;  that  cave  in  and  hollow  out, 
and  turn  into  bars  and  islands,  in  a  way  that  is  almost 
indescribable.  Islands  in  it  which  were  on  one  side  one 
year  are  on  the  other  side  another  year.  Channels 
which  the  steamboats  followed  last  month  and  for  years 
past  are  now"  closed.  Bars  no  one  ever  saw  before  sud- 
denly lift  above  the  surface.  Piloting  on  the  Mississippi 
is  a  business  no  one  ever  learns.  It  is  a  continual  sub- 
ject of  study.    It  is  the  work  of  years  to  understand  the 

27 


general  course  of  the  chan- 
nel, and  then  the  knowledge 
must  be  altered  with  each 
trip.  The  best  pilot  on  the 
river,  if  he  stops  ashore  a 
few  months,  becomes  green- 
er than  a  new  hand.  The 
pilots  not  only  report  their 
new  experiences  for  publica- 
tion in  the  newspapers,  but 
they  make  notes  of  remark- 
able changes,  and  drop  them 
into  boxes  on  the  route  for 
the  guidance  of  others  in  the 
business. 

In  the  lower  part  of  the 
river,  below  Tennessee,  the 
whistle  of  a  boat  may  often 
be  heard  between  twelve 
and  fifteen  hours  before  the 
boat  reaches  the  point  where 
the  sound  came.  This  is  be- 
cause of  the  manner  in  which 
the  river  doubles  upon  it- 
self. A  tow^n  which  may  be 
only  four  or  five  miles  across  one  of  these  loops  will  hear 
the  boat,  but  the  distance  around  the  bend,  and  the  stops 
the  boat  makes,  may  allow  a  prospective  passenger  to  do 
a  day's  business  before  he  boards  the  vessel. 

JS^othing  could  be  more  primitive  than  many  of  the 
boat  -  landings.  The  vessels  simply  "run  their  nozzles 
agin  the  shore,"  as  John  Hay  has  sung  that  they  do. 
Tillages,  planters'  depots  or  mills,  are  found  on  the  edge 
of  a  rude  bank,  and  the  boats  run  up  close  as  they  can 
and  lower  the  stages.    The  darkies  tumble  up  and  down 

28 


THE  CHICAGO  MAN 


the  bluff,  the  spectators  line  its  edge.  There  is  no  stair- 
case, pier,  or  wharf-boat,  sea-wall,  or  anything.  If  there 
was,  it  is  a  question  whether  it  would  last  out  a  single 
season.  I  seldom  looked  long  at  such  a  bank  that  I  did 
not  see  a  piece  of  it  loosen  and  crumble  and  fall  into 
the  rushing,  yellow  river.  Sometimes  it  was  only  a  ton 
that  fell  in  ;  sometimes  it  was  a  good  fraction  of  an 
acre.  Captain  Carvell  told  me  that  once  he  was  looking 
at  as  noble  and  large  a  tree  as  he  ever  saw  in  his  life, 
standing  inshore  and  away  from  the  edge  of  a  bluff. 
Suddenly  the  land  slipped  away  from  around  it,  and  it 
fell  and  crashed  into  his  steamboat.  At  many  and  many 
a  stopping-place  the  pilots  call  to  mind  where  the  banks- 
were  when  they  began  piloting,  and  always  they  were 
far  out  in  the  present  stream.  One  pointed  out  to  me 
an  eddy  over  the  wreck  of  a  steamer  that  sunk  while 
warped  to  the  shore.  She  was  now  in  the  middle  of 
the  extraordinary  river.  Any  one  may  see  Island  Num- 
ber Ten,  and  call  to  mind  its  exciting  part  in  the  late 
war ;  but  it  had  no  part  in  it,  for  old  Island  Number 
Ten  disappeared  years  ago,  and  this  is  a  new  one,  not 
on  the  site  of  its  predecessor.  Yet  the  true  Island 
Number  Ten  bore  very  ancient,  heavy  timber,  and  many- 
fine  plantations.  The  new  one  is  already  timbered  with 
a  dense  growth  of  cane  and  saplings. 

At  Fort  Pillow  we  saw  the  river's  most  stupendous 
ravages  of  that  particular  time.  The  famous  bluff,  fifty 
feet  high  at  least,  was  sliding  down  in  great  slices  and 
bites  and  falling  into  the  river.  One  great  mound  was 
in  the  water,  another  had  fallen  just  behind  it,  and  these 
had  carried  the  trees  that  were  growing  in  the  earth, 
flat  down  in  the  mixed-up  dirt.  But  beyond  these  a 
huge  slice  many  rods  long  and  many  yards  thick  was 
parting  from  the  bluff  and  leaning  over  towards  the 
^ater,  with  huge  trees  still  standing  on  it,  and  reaching 

29 


their  naked  roots  out  on  either  side  like  the  lingers  of 
drowning  men.  Below,  at  what  is  called  Centennial 
Cut-off,  the  eccentric  river  has  reversed  its  original  di- 
rection. It  used  to  form  a  letter  S,  and  now  it  flows 
down  the  central  curve  of  the  S  where  it  used  to  flow 
northward.  The  two  loops  are  grown  with  reeds  and 
form  a  vast  amphitheatre,  at  the  sides  of  which,  five 
miles  off,  one  sees  the  distant  banks  covered  with  big 
timber. 

Still  farther  down  the  river,  in  places  where  the  men 
of  the  River  Commission  had  been  at  work,  we  saw  the 
banks  cut  at  an  angle  like  a  natural  beach,  and  sheathed 
with  riprap.  In  places  the  water  is  said  to  have  got 
under  the  sheathing  and  melted  the  work  away,  but 
there  was  no  disposition  among  the  navigators  I  was 
with  to  criticise  the  government  Avork,  so  great  has  been 
the  continually  increasing  improvement  of  the  water- 
way. We  saw  few  of  those  snags  w^hich  were  once  as 
common  as  the  dollars  of  a  millionaire,  but  we  did  see 
many  places  where  the  cre^vs  of  the  snag-boats  had  been 
at  work.  The  men  chop  down  the  trees  so  that  when 
the  bank  caves  the  trees  and  their  roots  will  both  float 
off  separately.  If  left  to  pursue  the  wicked  ways  of 
inanimate  things,  the  trees  would  be  carried  out  into 
the  stream  to  sink  butt  downward,  and  project  their 
trunks  up  to  pierce  the  bottom  of  the  first  boat  that 
struck  one.  The  government  boats  have  done  splendid 
work  at  pulling  up  snags.  It  is  said  that  their  tackle 
is  strong  enough  for  any  snag  they  ever  find,  and  that 
"  they  could  pull  up  the  bottom  of  the  river,  if  neces- 
sary." 

Down  on  the  Mississippi  State  and  Arkansas  shores 
we  began  to  note  the  consequences  of  former  high  stages 
of  water.  The  water-marks  were  often  half-way  up  the 
cabin  and  warehouse  doors,  and  tales  were  told  of  fami- 

31 


lies  that  take  to  the  second  stories  of  their  houses  on 
such  occasions,  not  forgetting  to  put  their  poultry  and 
cattle  on  rafts  tied  to  trees,  to  keep  them  until  the  flood 
subsides. 

It  was  on  the  third  day  that  I  became  acquainted  with 
the  beautiful  nunlike  pianist.  I  found  her  in  distress 
among  the  firkins  and  brooms  and  boxes  on  the  upper 
deck,  among  which  the  boat's  cat  had  fled  from  the  too 
violent  endearments  of  little  Cinderella.  My  hands  and 
those  of  the  pianist  met  in  the  dark  crannies  of  the 
freight  piles,  and  we  fell  to  laughing,  and  became  so 
well  acquainted  that  soon  afterwards  she  dropped  into 
a  chair  beside  me.  In  fifteen  minutes  she  had  told  me 
her  name,  age,  station,  amusements,  love  afl'airs,  home 
arrangements,  tastes,  hopes,  and  religious  belief.  The 
manner  of  the  narrative  was  even  more  peculiar  than 
the  matter.  Her  mother,  then  on  board  with  her,  wa& 
an  Arkansas  widow,  who  kept  a  hotel  to  which  commer- 
cial travellers  repaired  in  great  force,  and  at  which — sa 
I  judged  from  what  the  young  woman  had  imbibed — 
they  paid  their  way  with  quite  as  much  slang  as  cash. 
As  I  have  seen  such  girls  before  in  my  travels  in  the 
Southwest,  and  have  always  found  them  different,  in  a 
marked  way,  from  the  girls  in  large  towns,  I  will  try 
to  repeat  what  I  jotted  down  of  lier  observations. 

"  You're  married,  ain't  you  ?"  She  was  a  pretty  girl, 
as  I  have  said,  and  she  had  large,  deep  black  eyes.  These 
she  set,  as  she  spoke,  so  as  to  give  a  searching  glance 
that  showed  her  to  be  expectant  of  a  denial  of  my 
happy  state,  yet  confident  she  was  right.  "  I  knew  it. 
Well,  the  married  kind  are  the  worst  that  come  to  our 

hotel.     My  mother  keeps  a  hotel  at ,  you  know  ; 

the  captain  's  told  you,  I  suppose.  It's  a  village ;  but 
I  know  a  few  things.  The  band  plays  '  Annie  Eooney ' 
where  I  live,  but  it  ain't  up  to  me,  for  I  know  '  Com- 

32 


rades,'  and  'Maggie  Murphy's  Home,'  and  the  very 
latest  songs  the  boys  bring  to  the  house.  That  Provi- 
dence feller's  in  love,  ain't  he  ?  "Well,  say,  I  thought 
it  was  either  love  or  dyspepsia  that  was  aihng  him.  Sa}^ 
do  you  believe  in — pshaw !  I  was  going  to  ask  if  you 
believed  in  love,  but  of  course  you're  married,  and  you've 
got  to  say  '  yes.'     I  always  call  '  rats '  ^vhen  I  hear  of 


THE  MAN   FROM   PKOVIDENCE 
84 


anybody  being  in  love.  Ain't  it  dull  on  this  boat?  I 
never  see  such  men.  I  believe  if  a  woman  knocked  'em 
down  they  wouldn't  speak  to  her.  You're  the  only  one 
that  ain't  glued  to  the  bar ;  you  and  Admiral  Farragut 
— that's  what  I  call  the  captain.  He's  nice,  ain't  he  ?  I 
think  he's  too  cute.     I  love  old  men,  I  do." 

A  pause,  and  a  rapt  expression  of  a  face  turned  upon 
the  river-bank  as  if  in  enjoyment  of  the  tame  scenery. 

''  Say !  what's  the  latest  slang  in  New  York  ?  The 
boys — travellers  that  stop  at  our  house,  you  know — 'ain't 
brought  in  anything  new  in  a  long  while.  You're  from 
New  York,  ain't  you?  Can't  help  it,  can  you?  My! 
what  a  jay-bird  I'd  look  like  in  New  York !  Well,  you 
needn't  get  scared;  I  ain't  a-going.  I'm  going  to  stay 
where  I'm  on  top.  Bob  Ingersoll  lives  in  New  York, 
don't  he?  He's  immense,  ain't  he?  No,  I  see  you  ain't 
stuck  on  liim.  Well,  neither  am  I,  and  I'm  going  to  tell 
you  the  truth.  Everybody  my  Avay  is  crazy  to  read 
everything  he  writes  and  says,  but  I'm  going  to  stick 
to  m V  little  old  Bible  till  a  good  deal  smarter  man  than 
he  is  comes  along.  If  I  v^as  Ingersoll,  and  knew  for 
sure  that  I  was  right,  I  wouldn't  stump  the  countr}^  to 
try  and  take  away  the  comfort  of  every  poor  old  widow 
and  young  girl  and  decent  man  ;  because  our  belief  in 
religion  is  close  on  to  all  that  most  folks  has  in  this 
world." 

I  sj)oke  of  my  surprise  that  she  should  believe  in  re- 
ligion and  not  in  love. 

''  Say  !"  said  she ;  "  I  help  run  a  hotel,  and  I  agree  with 
everybody  that  comes  along^for  the  price.  But  I  ain't 
in  a  hotel  now,  and  you're  married,  and  I'll  give  myself 
away.  I  made  fun  of  love,  but,  gee  whiz  !  I  didn't  mean 
it.  I  reckon  a  girl  don't  fool  you  talking  that  way. 
I'm  in  love,  right  smart  in  love,  too ;  up  to  my  neck. 

"  My  mother  hates  him.     You  see,  we  used  to  be  well 

35 


PASSING    A   SISTER-BOAT 


off,  and  father's  people  were  'way  up,  and  mother  keeps 
in  with  all  her  old  friends..  They're  all  as  poor  as  we, 
but  they're  prouder'n  Lucifer,  and  mother'd  ruther  we'd 
marry  poor  quality  folks  than  see  us  rich  and  happy  if 
our  husbands  were  common  stock.  Well,  I  want  to  do 
what's  right,  but  what  must  I  go  and  do  but  fall  in  love 
with  a  German.  lie's  a  civil  engineer,  and  he  was  lay- 
ing  out  a  railroad  and  come  to  our  house.  YouVl  think 
he  was  a  chump  to  look  at  him  ;  but,  say  !  he's  just  splen- 
did. Ma  saw  what  was  going  on,  and  she  ordered  me 
not  to  write  to  him.  I  told  him  that,  and  he  said  for  us 
to  run  away.  Oh,  he's  immense,  if  he  is  a  German.  I 
let  on  I  was  real  angry,  I  told  him  I  was  going  to 
miiid  my  mother,  and  he  shouldn't  put  such  ideas  in  my 
head.  I  scared  him  pale  ;  but  I  liked  him  all  the  better ; 
he  was  so  cut  up.     But  he  said  'AH  right,'  and  we  don't 


write — except  he  Avrites  to  my  aunt,  and  I  see  the  let- 
ters. We  are  waiting  two  years  till  I'm  twenty-one, 
and  I'm  telling  ma  I  love  him  three  times  a  day  so  as 
to  get  her  used  to  it.  She's  praying  for  ever}^ thing  to 
happen  to  Jake,  but,  say  !  it  takes  more  than  prayer  to 
kill  a  German,  don't  it  f 

Our  remarkable  tete-d-tete  Avas  interrupted  by  the  an- 
nouncement of  dinner,  and  we  put  the  length  of  the 
cabin  between  us.  I  never  more  than  "  bade  her  the 
time  of  day,"  as  the  Irish  say,  after  that,  for  it  seemed 
more  profitable  to  divide  my  time  between  the  pilot- 
house and  the  towns  ashore.  At  Columbus,  Kentucky, 
we  saw  the  first  true  Southern  mansion,  with  its  great 
columns  in  front  and  its  wide  hall  through  the  middle. 
We  began  to  make  many  stops  in  midstream  to  deliver 
the  mail  by  a  yawl,  manned  most  skilfully  by  the  second 
mate  and  several  roustabouts.  At  Slough,  Kentuck3\ 
we  saw  cotton -fields  and  corn-fields  opposite  one 
another,  and  felt  that  Ave  were  truly  in  the  South.  At 
every  village  the  houses  were  emptied  and  the  levee  was 
crowded.  Darkies  were  in  profuse  abundance,  and  forty 
were  idle  to  every  one  who  worked.  Every  woman  and 
girl,  Avhite  and  black,  had  put  on  some  one  bright  red 
garment,  and  the  historic  yellow  girls  made  no  more 
effort  to  hide  the  fact  that  they  were  chewing  tobacco 
or  snuff  than  the  old  negresses  did  to  conceal  the  pipes 
that  they  smoked. 

Down  and  down  we  Avent  Avith  the  current,  and  no 
longer  noticed  the  deep  snoring  of  the  engine,  or  thought 
of  the  rushing  Avorld  to  the  north  and  east.  The  table 
fare  remained  remarkably  good,  the  nights'  rests  Avere 
unbroken ;  never  did  I  stop  marA^elling  that  the  boat 
Avas  not  crowded  with  the  tired  men  of  business,  to 
whom  it  offei^d  the  most  perfect  relief  and  rest.  The 
hotel-keeper  and  her  frank  and  beautiful  daughter  got 

87 


oif  at  a  picturesque  town  fronted  by  great  oaks.  The 
daughter  waved  her  hand  at  the  pilot-house  and  called 
out,  "  Ta-ta." 

There  was  mild  excitement  and  much  blowing  of 
whistles  when  we  passed  our  sister-boat  the  Ciiy  of 
Monroe — the  prize  Anchor  liner  from  Natchez. 

"Hark!"  said  the  first  mate  in  his  society  voice. 
"  Stop  talking.  Listen  to  her  wheels  on  the  water.  It's 
music.  It's  for  all  the  world  like  walnuts  dropping  off 
a  tree.  When  she  made  her  first  big  run  the  roust- 
abouts got  up  a  song  about  her:  'Did  ye  hear  what 
the  Monroe  done  T  " 

As  the  days  went  by  it  was  apparent  that  the  woods 
extended  along  both  sides  of  the  turbid  river,  with  onl}^ 
here  and  there  a  clearing  for  a  town  or  farm  or  house. 
The  population  does  not  cling  to  the  shore ;  it  is  too 
often  overflowed.  At  Pecan  Point  (pecan  is  pronounced 
"  pecarn  "  along  the  riv^er)  we  saw  the  first  green  grass 
on  February  23d,  and  the  first  great  plantation.  It  was, 
as  we  have  all  read,  a  o^reat  clearino^,  a  scattering-  of 
negro  cabins,  and  then  the  big  mansion  of  the  planter, 
surrounded  by  tidy  white  houses  in.  numbers  sufiicient  to 
form  a  village.  Here  a  darky  put  a  history  of  his  life 
into  a  sentence.  Being  asked  how  he  got  along,  he 
said :  "  Oh,  fairly,  fairly,  sah.  Some  days  dere's  chicken 
all  de  day,  but  mo'  days  dey's  only  feathers."  We  saw 
the  first  cane-brake  in  great  clumps,  and  as  each  cane 
was  clad  with  leaves  from  top  to  bottom,  the  distant 
effect  was  that  of  thickets  of  green  bushes.  A\^e  saw 
many  little  plantations  of  a  few  acres  each,  usually  with 
a  government  river  light  on  the  bank,  and  consisting  of 
a  couple  of  acres  of  corn  and  as  much  more  of  cotton. 
We  learned  that  in  this  way  thousands  of  negroes  have 
kept  themselves  since  the  war.  We  saw  their  log  huts, 
their  wagons,  and  the  inevitable  mule,  for  a  mule  and  a 

38 


shot-gun  are  the  lirst  things  that  are  bought,  by  whites 
and  blacks,  in  this  region. 

Memphis  proved  an  unexpectedly  lively  town,  with  a 
main  street  that  was  rather  Western  than  Southern. 
Here  the  freight  from  and  for  the  boat  w^ns  handled  in 
surprisingly  quick  time,  by  means  of  an  endless  belt 
railway  something  like  a  tread-mill.  ^Ye  left  the  dancing 
lights  of  the  city,  and  moved  out  into  a  pall  of  smoke 
suspended  in  fog,  and  then  I  saw  how  well  and  thor- 
oughly the  men  in  the  pilot  -  house  knew  the  mighty 
river.  After  a  run  of  a  few  miles  the  captain  declared 
it  unsafe  to  go  farther.  The  electric  search -light  was 
thrown  in  all  directions,  but  only  illuminated  a  small 
circle  closed  in  by  a  fog-bank.  In  absolute,  black  dark- 
ness the  pilot  and  the  captain  discussed  the  character  of 
the  shores,  to  hit  upon  a  hard  bank  with  heavy  timber 
to  which  it  w^ould  be  safe  to  tie  up.  They  agreed  that 
some  unseen  island  across  the  stream  and  lower  down 
Avould  serve  best. 

'"•Look  out  for  the  bar  just  above  there,"  said  the 
captain. 

"•  Yes,"  said  the  pilot ;  "  I  know  where  she  is." 

The  wheel  was  spun  round,  the  boat  turned  into  a 
new  course,  and  presently  the  search-light  was  thrown 
upon  the  very  tirnber-studded  reef  they  sought — as  fine 
an  exhibition  of  knowledge,  experience,  and  skill  as  I 
ever  witnessed. 

We  now  had  Mississippi  on  the  left  and  Arkansas  on 
the  right,  and  saw  the  first  commercial  monuments  of 
the  great  industry  in  cotton-seed  and  its  varied  prod- 
ucts. This  was  at  Helena,  Arkansas,  and  already,  two 
days  after  Washington's  birthday,  the  weather  had  be- 
come so  hot  that  the  shade  was  grateful.  The  negroes 
w^armed  to  their  incessant,  laborious  work,  and  the  black 
processions  to  and  from  the  shore  at  the  frequent  iand- 

40 


ings  became  leaping  lines  of  garrulous  toilers.  The  river 
becomes  ver}^  wide,  often  miles  wide,  in  long  reaches, 
and  at  one  part  the  boat's  officers  pointed  to  where  it  is 
eating  its  way  inland,  and  said  that  a  mile  in  the  inte- 
rior snags  are  found  sitting  up  in  the  earth,  far  beneath 
the  roots  of  the  present  trees,  as  they  did  in  the  old 
bottom,  showing  either  that  the  river  was  once  many 
times  wider  than  now,  or  that  it  has  shifted  to  and  fro 
as  it  continues  to  do. 

To  tell  in  detail  what  we  saw  and  did  during  two 
more  days,  how  we  saw  green  willows  and  then  dog- 
wood and  jasmine  in  bloom,  or  even  how  Captain  Car- 
vell  got  out  his  straw  hat  at  Elmwood,  Mississippi,  would 
require  a  chapter  on  the  subject.  We  often  heard  the 
ciy  of  ^'  Mark  twain,"  which  Samuel  D.  Clemens  took  as 
his  noj/i  deplume,  and  a  line  about  that  may  be  interest- 
ing. The  Providence,  laden  down  till  her  deck  touched 
the  water,  drew  a  little  more  than  four  feet ;  and  though 
the  river  has  a  depth  of  SO  to  120  feet,  there  are  places 
where  bars  made  it  necessary  to  take  soundings.  When- 
ever this  was  done  a  negro  on  the  main-deck  heaved  the 
lead,  and  another  on  the  second  deck  echoed  his  calls. 
These  are  the  cries  I  heard,  and  when  the  reader  under- 
stands that  a  fathom,  or  six  feet,  is  the  basis  of  calcula- 
tion, he  will  comprehend  the  system.  These,  then,  were 
the  cries : 

"  Five  feet."     "  Six  feet."     "  Nine  feet." 

'^ Mark  twain"  (12  feet). 

"  A  quarter  less  twain  "  (lOj^  feet)— that  is  to  say,  a 
quarter  of  a  fathom  less  than  two  fathoms. 

*'  A  quarter  twain  "  (13^  feet). 

^'Mark  three"  (18  feet). 

'•  A  quarter  less  three."  "  A  quarter  three  "  (19^  feet). 
••  Deep  four."     ''  IS^o  bottom." 

The  tows  that  we  saw  were  too  peculiar  to  miss  men- 

41 


tion.  On  this  river  the  loads  are  ''towed  before''  in- 
stead of  behind.  The  principle  underlying*  the  custom 
is  that  of  the  wheelbarrow,  and  is  necessitated  by  the 
curves  in  this,  the  crookedest  large  river  in  the  world. 
The  barges  and  flats  are  fastened  solidly  ahead  of  the 
tug -boat  in  a  great  fan -shaped  mass,  and  the  steamer 
backs  and  pushes  and  gradually  turns  the  bulk  as  if  it 
had  hold  of  the  handles  of  a  barrow  in  a  crooked  lane. 
We  saw  a  famous  boat,  the  Wilson,  from  Pittsburg,  come 
along  behind  a  low  black  island.    It  proved  to  be  a  tow 


A  RAFT   OF   LOGS 


of  large,  low,  uncovered  barges,  thirty  of  them,  each  car- 
rying 1000  tons.  She  Avas  therefore  pushing  $105,000 
worth  of  freight,  for  the  coal  sells  in  Xew  Orleans  at 
$3  50  a  ton.  The  work  of  propelling  these  tows  is  so 
ingenious  that  the  pilots  are  handsomely  paid.  They 
cannot  drive  their  loads ;  they  merelj^  guide  them,  and 
a  mistake  or  bad  judgment  in  a  bend  may  cost  thou- 
sands of  dollars  through  a  wreck.  The  barges  are  made 
of  merely  inch-and-a-half  stuff,  cost  $700  each,  and  are 
seldom  used  twice.     They  are  sold  to  wreckers. 

42 


This  is  in  the  region  where  the  levees,  that  are  said 
to  have  cost  >i>  150,000,000,  line  the  river -side  through 
whole  States — mere  banks  of  earth  such  as  railways  are 
built  on  where  fillings  are  required.  Some  of  these  are 
far  awa\^  from  the  water,  and  some  are  close  beside  it ; 
some  are  earthy,  some  are  grassy,  and  some  are  heaped 
up  with  banks  of  Cherokee  roses  that  blossom  in  bou- 
quets of  hundreds  of  yards  in  length.  These  are  the 
levees  into  which  the  crawfish  dig  and  the  water  eats, 
and  we  read  of  crevasses  that  follow  and  destroy  fort- 
unes or  submerge  counties.  But  they  are  mere  inci- 
dents in  the  laziest,  most  alluring  and  refreshing,  jour- 
ney that  one  tired  man  ever  enjoyed. 

43 


II 

NEW  ORLEANS,  OUR  SOUTHERN  CAPITAL 

"  The  biggest  little  city  in  the  country,''  is  what  an 
adopted  citizen  of  New  Orleans  calls  that  town.  With 
but  little  more  than  a  quarter  of  a  million  of  inhabi- 
tants, the  Crescent  City  has  most  of  the  features  of  a 
true  capital  and  metropolis.  It  is  among  the  few  towns 
in  our  country  that  can  be  compared  with  New  York  in 
respect  of  their  metropolitan  qualifications,  but  New 
Orleans  leads  all  the  rest,  though  in  population  it  is 
small  beside  any  of  the  others.  It  has  an  old  and  ex- 
clusive society,  whose  claims  would  be  acknowledged  in 
any  of  our  cities.  It  supports  grand  opera ;  its  clubs 
ar'e  fully  what  the  term  implies,  and  not  mere  empty 
club-houses.  It  has  line  theatres  and  public  and  church 
buildings.  The  joys  of  the  table,  which  Chesterfield 
ranked  first  among  the  dissipations  of  intellectual  men, 
are  provided  not  only  in  many  ^ne  restaurants  and  in 
the  clubs,  but  in  a  multitude  of  homes.  No  city  has  finer 
markets.  Its  commerce  is  with  all  the  world,  and  its 
population  is  cosmopolitan,  with  all  which  a  long  contin- 
uance of  those  conditions  implies.  Like  the  greater 
cities,  it  has  distinct  divisions  or  quarters,  which  offer 
the  visiting  sight-seer  novelty  and  change.  Its  "sights" 
are  the  accumulation  of  nearly  two  centuries,  and  of 
Spanish,  French,  and  American  origin. 

It  is  of  value  to  study  the  qualities  which  make  the 
Southern  capital  what  it  is,  because  it  is  evident  that  it 

44 


is  to  become  the  chief  winter  resort  of  those  who  jour- 
ney southward  to  escape  the  winters  in  the  North.  The 
mardi  gras  carnival  is  advertising  its  attractions  to  such 
an  extent  that  the  last  occurrence  of  this  festival  found 
100,000  strangers  there,  representing  every  State  and 
large  city  in  the  Union.  It  is  on  the  southern  or  winter 
route  to  California,  it  is  on  the  wa}^  from  the  West  and 
Northwest  to  Florida  and  the  Georgia  resorts,  and  it 
stands  in  the  path  to  Texas  and  Mexico.  It  is  the  best 
of  all  the  American  winter  resorts,  because  it  has  what 
the  others  possess  (wdiich  is  to  say,  warm  weather  and 
sunshine),  and,  in  addition,  it  offers  the  theatres,  shops, 
restaurants,  crowds,  clubs,  and  multiform  entertain- 
ments of  a  city  of  the  first  class.  It  is  ^;a/'  excellence  a 
city  of  fun,  fair  women,  rich  food,  and  flowers.  Its  open- 
air  surface-drainage  system  is  about  to  be  replaced  by  a 
different  one  that  may  not  be  more  w^holesome,  but  will 
have  the  advantage  of  being  out  of  sight.  Only  one 
other  reform  must  be  instituted,  and  even  that  is  almost 
accomplished.  The  local  idea  that  a  hotel  which  was  the 
best  in  the  country  in  1837  would  remain  first-class  for- 
ever was  an  untenable  proposition.  A  new  management, 
fixed  rates  that  do  not  bound  into  the  realm  of  extor- 
tion wdien  a  crowd  comes  along,  and  a  modern  million- 
dollar  establishment  would  fetch  more  persons  there, 
keep  them  longer,  and  send  them  away  happier  than 
most  of  the  citizens  liave  any  idea  of.  Those  other 
cities  that  are  at  the  end  of  a  long  route  of  travel,  out 
on  the  Pacific  coast,  exemplify  the  value  of  first-class 
hotels  in  all  their  histories.  The  consequence  is  that  in 
a  tiny  city  called  Fairhaven,  at  the  upper  end  of  Puget 
Sound,  there  is  a  better  hotel  than  can  be  found  along 
the  whole  coast  of  the  Gulf  of  Mexico  west  of  Florida. 
The  Pacific  coast  people  have  found  out  that  tourists 
will  pass  an  otherwise  important  place  to  stop  in  one 

45 


that  boasts  a  fine  hotel.  We  Americans  will  exchange 
a  Wyoming  stage-coach  for  a  log-cabin  inn,  but  we  will 
not  leave  a  Pullman  train  for  a  bad  hotel  if  we  can  help 
it.  It  is  good  to  know  that  a  great  modern  hotel-build- 
ing is  at  last  under  way  there,  for  strangers  arriving 
in  Kew  Orleans  could  not  all  be  expected  to  know  how 
remarkabl}^  fine  are  the  better  class  of  boarding  and 
lodging  places,  or  how  charming  a  mode  of  living  it  is 
to  secure 'good  rooms  and  coffee  of  a  morning,  and  dine 
about  in  the  restaurants. 

On  mardi  gras^  the  day  before  the  beginning  of  Lent, 
is  the  time  to  be  in  New  Orleans,  particularly  for  a 
stranger,  because  in  the  scenes  of  the  carnival  is  found 
the  key  to  the  character  of  the  people.  They  are  not 
^  like  the  rest  of  us.  Our  so-called  carnivals,  wherever  and 
whenever  we  have  tried  to  hold  them,  have  been  mere 
commercial  ventures,  illustrated  with  advertisements, 
carried  out  by  hired  men,  and  paid  for  by  self-seeking 
persons,  who  had  not  the  backing  of  any  populace.  But 
in  Xew  Orleans  the  carnival  displays  are  wholly  de- 
signed to  amuse  and  entertain  the  pleasure-loving,  light- 
hearted,  largely  Latin  people  who  originally  took  part  in 
them,  but  who  have  surrendered  active  participation  to 
the  leading  and  wealthy  men  of  the  town. 

The  secret  carnival  societies  are  six  in  number,  and 
are  named  the  Argonauts,  Atlanteans,  Krewe  of  Pro- 
teus, Mistick  Krewe  of  Comus,  Momus,  and  Rex.  Busi- 
ness men,  and  those  Avho  have  earned  the  additional 
title  of  "  society  men,"  make  up  the  membership  of  the 
societies.  If  an 3^  one  or  two  of  these  coteries  fancy 
themselves  of  '*  higher  social  tone'-  than  the  others,  the 
fact  would  be  natural,  but  the  distinction  will  not  be 
pointed  out  here.  The  oldest  of  the  societies  is  the 
Comus,  which  was  organized  in  1857  to  give  a  night 
parade  and  ball.     These  it  has  given  ever  since.     In 

46 


1879  the  Momus  Society  came  into  being;  in  1880,  the 
Eex  Societ}^;  in  1881,  the  Krewe  of  Proteus;  and  in 
1801,  the  Atlanteans  and  Argonauts.  The  members  pay 
into  the  treasuries  of  these  organizations  a  fixed  sum 
per  annum,  and  this,  added  together  and  drawn  upon  by 
a  treasurer,  who  supervises  all  the  accounts,  is  used  to 
defray  the  expense  of  the  whole  carnival. 

The  keeping  of  this  especial  festival  is  a  very  old  cus- 
tom of  Latin  and  Catholic  origin,  like  the  establishment 
of  the  city  itself.  For  man}^  years  it  was  entirely  pop- 
ular and  promiscuous  in  the  sense  that  it  was  unordered 
and  without  either  head  or  programme.  The  Mistick 
Krewe  of  Comus  brought  order  and  form  into  the  first 
night  parade  in  1857,  and  in  1880  the  Rex  Societ}^  by 
taking  the  lead  in  the  open-air  pageantry  on  the  day 
before  marcli  yras^  made  it  possible  and  advantageous 
to  do  away  with  the  promiscuous  masking  and  merry- 
making, attendant  upon  which  had  been  the  throwing  of 
lime  and  flour,  the  drunkenness,  and  the  usual  disorder 
which  must  everywhere  characterize  a  loosely  managed 
festival  of  the  sort.  Since  then  the  only  spontaneous 
masking  among  the  people  has  been  by  children ;  there 
has  never  been  a  serious  affray ;  there  are  no  more  tipsy 
persons  in  the  streets  than  on  an 3^  other  day ;  and  there 
has  seldom  been  an  occasion  to  make  an  arrest  for  a 
cause  traceable  to  the  carnival  spirit. 

All  our  cities  are  distinguished  for  the  orderliness  of 
their  holiday  crowds,  but  such  absolute  self-control  as  is 
shown  by  the  people  of  New  Orleans  at  mardi  gras  is  a 
thing  above  and  beyond  what  is  known  anywhere  else 
in  the  country.  To  me  it  was  inexplicable.  I  could  un- 
derstand the  patient  good-nature  of  a  people  trained  for 
an  occasion,  but  in  the  crowds  were  100,000  strangers, 
many  of  them  of  the  sort  that  would  naturally  be  at- 
tracted to  a  festival  that  was  to  be  followed  by  a  prize- 

47 


tight  between  noted  pugilists.  It  must  liave  been  that 
all  caught  the  spirit  of  the  occasion.  It  is  chiefly  on 
Canal  Street  that  the  bulk  of  the  holiday  crowd  assem- 
bles when  there  is  a  parade,  but  only  ten  policemen 


ON   CANAL   STREET 


were  detailed  to  keep  order  during  the  day  parade  of 
Rex  in  1892;  only  seven  for  the  greater  night  pageant 
of  the  Com  us  Society. 

The  actual  mai'di  gras  celebration  is  only  the  climax 
of  a  series  of  festivities  lasting  ten  days  or  more.  First 
is  held  the  Bal  des  Koses,  in  the  week  before  the  week 
which  precedes  the  public  carnival.  This  ball  is  purely  a 
"  society  affair,"  like  our  Patriarchs'  Ball  in  Xew  York. 

The  week  which  follows  is  one  of  almost  daily  sensa- 
tions. First,  on  Monday,  the  Argonauts  begin  the  pro- 
longed festival  with  a  tourney  and  chariot- racing.  A 
ball  at  night  follows.  On  Tuesdav  the  Atlanteans  oive 
their  ball.     On  Thursday  Momus  gives  a  ball,  with  tab- 

48 


leaux,  in  costume.  On  Friday  of  this  gala  week  is  held 
the  Carnival  german.  The  Carnival  German  Club  is 
composed  of  twenty-five  society  men,  who  give  the  ger- 
inan  by  subscription.  Only  seventy-five  couples  partici- 
pate in  it. 

The  carnival  proper  is  celebrated  with  pageantry  and 
dancing  that  occupy  the  afternoons  and  nights  of  Mon- 
day and  "  Fat  Tuesday."  Eex,  the  king  of  the  carnival, 
comes  to  town  on  Monday  afternoon.  Who  he  is  a  few 
persons  know  at  the  time ;  who  he  was  is  sometimes 
published,  as  in  1891,  and  more  often  is  not.  What  is 
called  a  royal  yacht  is  chosen  to  bring  him  from  some 
mysterious  realm  over  which  he  rules  in  the  Orient,  to 
visit  his  winter  capital  in  the  Crescent  City.  Last  time 
the  royal  yacht  was  the  revenue  -  cutter  Galveston^  but 
ordinarily  the  societies  hire  one  of  the  big  river  steam- 
boats. The  yacht  is  always  accompanied  by  ten  or  fif- 
teen other  steamers,  gayly  decorated,  crowded  with  men 
and  women,  and  appointed  with  bands  of  music  and  all 
that  makes  good  cheer.  It  is  supposed  that  the  yacht 
has  taken  the  king  aboard  at  the  jetties.  The  fleet  re- 
turns, and  the  royal  landing  is  made  upon  the  levee  at 
the  foot  of  Canal  Street,  amid  a  fanfaronade  of  the 
whistles  of  boats,  locomotives,  and  factories,  and  the 
firing  of  guns.  The  king  is  met  by  many  city  officers 
and  leading  citizens,  who  are  called  the  dukes  of  the 
realm,  and  constitute  his  royal  court.  These  temporary 
nobles  wear  civilian  attire,  with  a  badge  of  gold,  and 
bogus  jewels  as  a  decoration.  Many  persons  in  car- 
riages accompany  them.  A  procession  is  formed,  and 
the  principal  features  of  the  display  are  a  gorgeous  lit- 
ter for  the  king,  a  litter  carrying  the  royal  keys,  and  a 
number  of  splendid  litters  in  which  ride  gayly  cos- 
tumed women,  representing  the  favorijtes  of  the  harem. 
This  the  public  sees  and  enjoys. 
D  49 


The  king  goes  to  the  City  Hall  accompanied  as  I  have 
described.  The  way  is  lined  with  tens  of  thousands  of 
spectators ;  flags  wave  from  every  building ;  music  is 
playing,  the  sun  is  shining ;  the  Avhole  scene,  with  the 
gorgeous  pageant  threading  it,  is  magnificent.  At  the 
City  Hall,  the  Duke  of  Crescent  City,  who  is  the  Ma^^or. 
welcomes  Rex,  and  gives  him  the  keys  and  the  freedom 
of  the  city.  The  king  mysteriously  disappears  after 
that,  presumably  to  his  palace. 

That  night,  the  night  before  mardi  gra^^  the  Krewe 
of  Proteus  holds  its  parade  and  ball,  and  in  extent  and 
cost  and  splendor  this  is  a  truly  representative  pair  of 
undertakinfys.  "  A  Dream  of  the  Yeo^etable  Kino^dom  " 
was  what  the  last  Proteus  parade  was  entitled.  It  con- 
sisted of  a  series  of  elaborate  and  splendid  floats  form- 
ing a  line  many  blocks  long,  and  representing  Avhatever 
is  most  picturesque,  or  can  be  made  so,  among  vegetable 
growths.  The  float  that  struck  me  as  the  most  peculiar 
and  noteworthy  bore  a  huge  watermelon,  peopled,  as  all 
the  devices  were,  with  gayly  costumed  men  and  women, 
and  decked  with  nodding  blossoms,  waving  leaves,  danc- 
ing tendrils,  and  the  glitter  and  sheen  of  metal,  lustrous 
stones,  and  silk.  Butterflies,  caterpillars,  birds,  a  great 
squirrel  on  the  acorn  float,  snails,  and  nameless  grotesque 
animal  forms  were  seen  upon  the  vegetables  and  their 
leaves,  while  men  dressed  as  fairies,  of  both  sexes,  were 
grouped  picturesquely  on  every  one.  These  devices  were 
not  inartistic  or  tawdry.  They  were  made  bv  skilled 
Avorkmen  trained  for  this  particular  work,  and  were  not 
only  superior  to  any  of  the  show  pieces  we  see  in  other 
pageants  elsewhere — they  Avere  equal  to  the  best  that 
are  exhibited  in  theatres.  They  were  displayed  to  the 
utmost  advantage  in  the  glare  of  the  torches  and  flam- 
beaux carried  by  the  men  who  led  the  horses  and  marched 
beside  the  hidden  wheels.     The  figures  in  Paris- made 

50 


rissiM^-:. 


CREOLE  TYPES 


costumes,  theatrical  paint,  and  masks  were  150  to  200 
members  of  the  Kre we— serious  and  earnest  men  of  af- 
fairs during  the  other  days  of  each  year. 

On  Tuesday,  mardl  gras^  Kex  really  made  his  ap- 
pearance, leading  a  pageant  called  "  the  symbolism  of 
colors,"  just  such  another  displa^^  of  the  blending  of 
strong  and  soft  colors,  but  a  thousand-fold  more  diflfi 

r»t. 


cult  to  render  satisfactoril}^  by  daylight.  The  twenty 
enormous  floats  in  line  represented  boats,  castles,  tow- 
er-s,  arches,  kiosks,  clouds,  and  thrones,  and  one,  that  I 
thought  the  best  of  all,  a  great  painter's  palette,  lying 
against  two  vases,  and  having  living  female  figures  re- 
cumbent here  and  there  to  represent  such  heaps  of  color 
as  might  be  looked  for  on  a  palette  in  use.  Canal  Street, 
one  of  the  broadest  avenues  in  the  Avorld,  was  newly 
paved  with  human  forms,  and  thousands  of  others  were 
on  the  reviewing-stands  built  before  the  faces  of  the 
houses,  over  the  pavements.  The  sight  of  such  a  vast 
concourse  of  people  was  as  grand  as  the  chromatic,  ser- 
pentlike line  of  floats  that  wound  across  and  across  the 
street.  That  night  all  the  people  turned  out  once  again 
and  witnessed  the  parade  of  the  Mistick  Krewe  of  Co- 
mus,  a  Japanesque  series  of  floats  called  "  Kippon,  the 
Land  of  the  Rising  Sun."  The  display  was,  to  say  the 
least,  as  fine  as  any  of  the  season. 

But  the  splendid  function,  one  that  I  never  saw  ex- 
celled in  this  country,  was  the  ball  of  the  same  society, 
that  night,  in  the  old  French  Opera-house.  All  the 
kings  and  their  queens,  representing  all  the  carnival 
societies,  were  in  the  opening  quadrille,  all  crowned  and 
robed  and  with  their  splendid  suites.  Looking  down 
upon  that  brilliant  mass  of  dancers  were  seven  rows  of 
the  belles  of  the  city — rows  unbroken  by  the  jarring 
presence  of  a  man.  These  ladies  were  all  simply  at- 
tired in  white,  pink,  pale  blue,  and  all  the  soft  faint 
colors  which  distinguish  the  dress  of  New  Orleans 
women.  Here  and  there  a  young  girl  wore  upon  her 
head  a  narrow  fillet  of  gold;  but  jewels  were  few  and 
far  apart — a  striking  omission  which  greatly  dignified 
the  gathering  and  enhanced  the  beauty  of  the  spectacle. 
If  the  reader  has  seen  the  beauteous  women  of  Spanisli 
descent  and  the  petite  and  sweet-faced  French  Creoles 

52 


of  that  city,  let  him  fancy  these,  and  the  loveliest  Amer- 
ican belles,  forming  seven  rows  in  a  theatre  of  grand 
size — and  then  let  him  try  his  best  to  picture  to  himself 
the  wondrous  garden  of  personified  flowers  that  was 
thus  presented. 

I  have  said  that  "society"  controls  the  opera.  This 
institution,  regularly  maintained  only  in  New  Orleans, 
of  all  the  cities  of  our  country,  is  almost  self-support- 
ing.    It  is  grand  opera,  and  it  is  always  French,  and 


IN  THE  OLD  FRENCH  QUARTER 


given  in  the  old  French  Opera-house,  which  reminds 
New-Yorkers  of  the  "  Academy,"  in  Fourteenth  Street. 
The  troupe  that  I  saw  was  a  complete  one,  with  a  double 

53 


set  of  leading  voices,  with  a  corps  de  hallet^  and  a  force 
of  hovffe  artists  for  the  presentation  of  comic  opera, 
which  is  given  at  regular  intervals,  and  always  on  Sun- 
day nights.  Many  of  the  chief  performers  were  from 
the  Grand  Opera  of  Paris. 

The  fashionable  society  of  Kew  Orleans  is  not  in  any 
sense  a  plutocracy.  The  wealth  of  those  who  have  it 
is  shared  by  or  hidden  from  those  who  have  it  not.  This 
is  because  the  pride  of  birth  and  family,  inherent  in  all 
our  Southerners  Avho  have  an  excuse  for  it,  meets  an 
equal  pride  of  family  and  name  among  the  poorer 
Creoles.  The  two  combine  to  create  a  large  exclusive 
set,  among  whose  members  the  terrible  ravages  of  the 
war  spread  a  disaster  that  is  privately  understood  and 
publicly  ignored.  Among  the  fashionables,  the  rich  and 
the  impoverished  meet  on  a  footing  which  the  rich  are 
at  such  pains  to  make  equal  that  they  are  often  plain  in 
their  entertainments  in  order  that  they  may  not  hurt 
the  sensitiveness  or  strain  the  resources  of  the  others 
when  it  is  their  turn  to  open  their  houses.  The  men 
and  women  of  this  society  maintain  among  themselves 
the  purest,  most  wholesome,  and  honest  conditions,  un- 
blemished by  any  hint  of  scandal,  latitude  of  speech, 
or  debatable  behavior. 

Again,  Avhile  "  society  "  here  loves  pleasure  keenly, 
and,  as  we  have  seen,  makes  a  business  of  some  sorts  of 
it,  there  is,  nevertheless,  an  intellectual  wing  to  it,  with 
a  liking  for  and  an  inclination  to  pursue  art  and  litera- 
ture. Several  ladies,  led,  perhaps,  by  Mrs.  Mollie  E.  Moore 
Davis,  who  has  a  marvellous  gift  for  gathering  bright 
folks  about  her  in  her  quaint  house  in  the  French  quar- 
ter, find  it  a  pleasure  to  entertain  and  introduce  such 
'  visitors  as  have  interested  them  by  their  work.  In  the 
intervals  between  these  gracious  ministrations  these  la- 
dies— with  not  a  blue-stocking,  but  a  host  of  beauties 

54 


among  them — entertain  one  another  with  well-written 
papers,  wise  debates,  and  music  and  recitations  at  meet- 
ings that  only  end  with  the  fracture  of  a  circle  that  has 
formed     around    a 
tempting   display   of 
refreshments. 

Though  a  winter 
resort,  New  Orleans 
is  pre-eminently  a 
summer  town— a  city 
of  galleried  houses,  of 
gardens,  of  Howers, 
and  of  shops  which 
open  wide  upon  the 
streets.  It  is  hot  there 
from  June  to  Novem- 
ber, and  during  those 
months  the  Ameri- 
cans who  can  afford 
to  do  so  exchange  it 


for     the     mountains 


AN  OLD  COUKT  IN  THE  FKENCH  QUARTER 


and  the  forests.    The 

wealthy  among  the  Creoles  are  apt  to  go  to  France, 
and  there  are  many  who  divide  the  year  thus,  wintering 
in  New  Orleans  and  summering  in  Paris.  Those  who 
are  obliged  to  stay  insist  that  it  is  not  dreadfully  hot, 
and  that  there  is  almost  always  a  breeze.  They  have  no 
patent  on  that ;  we  say  the  same  thing  in  New  York 
and  Philadelphia  and  Boston  and  St.  Louis.  But  I  sus- 
pect New  Orleans  has  a  very  debilitating  air  in  summei*. 
The  most  unobservant  visitor  can  see  one  general  proof 
of  its  heat  in  its  architecture,  whether  it  be  of  the  new 
or  the  old,  the  Creole  or  the  American  houses.  I  refer 
to  the  ubiquitous  balconies — "  galleries  "  they  call  them 
there.     And  for  every  gallery  you  see  from  the  streets 


there  is  at  least  one  in  the  back,  on  the  courts  and  gar- 
dens. Thus  the  Creoles,  having  the  warm  Aveather  solely 
in  view,  are  like  the  Italians  at  home,  who  stoop  over 
their  charcoal  hand-stoves  during  the  few  daj^s  when  it 
is  very  chill}^,  suffering  a  little  time  in  order  to  enjoy  the 
greater  part  of  the  year.  I  did  not  hear  how  they  dress 
in  summer,  but  when  I  rode  through  the  Garden  District 
— the  new  part  of  the  town — my  lady  friends  pointed  to 
the  galleries  and  said :  ''  You  should  see  them  in  the  sum- 
mer, before  the  people  leave  or  after  they  come  back. 
The  entire  population  is  out-of-doors  in  the  air,  and  the 
galleries  are  loaded  with  women  in  soft  colors,  mainly 
Avhite.  They  have  white  dresses  by  the  dozen.  They 
go  about  without  their  hats,  in  carriages  and  the  street 
.cars,  visiting  up  and  down  the  streets.  In -doors  one 
must  spend  one's  Avhole  time  and  energy  in  vibrating  a 
fan."  They  liave  mosquitoes  there,  but  they  have  also 
electric  fans  which  mosquitoes  eschew. 

The  Avater  supply  is  from  the  Mississippi,  Avhich  has 
had  millions  expended  upon  the  improvement  of  its 
banks,  but  not  a  cent  upon  its  water.  It  is  not  offered 
in  the  clubs,  but  they  did  not  hesitate  to  serve  it  in  the 
old-fashioned  hotels,  the  burning  of  one  of  Avhich  has 
led  to  the  building  of  the  greatly  needed  modern  one. 

In  the  clubs  mineral  water  is  freely  set  about  on  the 
dining-tables.  This  is  attractive  to  the  eye,  but  those 
who  have  not  already  made  the  discovery  will  find  that 
effervescent  Avaters  are  too  thin  and  gaseous  to  satisfy 
thirst ;  in  fact,  nothing  but  honest  Avater  Avill  do  that. 
Therefore  I  drank  a  great  deal  of  Mississippi  Avater,  and 
followed  the  local  custom  of  dashing  a  pitcher  of  fil- 
tered fluid  over  me  after  each  bath.  The  residents  of  the 
American  quarter  use  it  filtered.  One  of  the  strangest 
and  most  distinctive  features  of  ^ew  Orleans  is  the  pres- 
ence of  the  collecting-tanks  for  rain-water  in  almost  ev- 

56 


erj  door-yard.  Eising  above  the  palms,  tlie  rose-trellises, 
and  the  stately  magnolias  are  these  huge,  hooped,  green 
cylinders  of  wood.  They  suggest  enormous  water-mel- 
ons on  end  and  with  the  tops  cut  off.  The  Creoles  keep 
the  rain-water  cool  in  enormous  jars  of  pottery  sitting 
about  in  their  pretty  courts — such  jars  as  Ali  Baba  had 
an  adventure  with,  in  which  oil  was  once  stored,  and 
probably  is  now,  in  the  Orient.  They  are  from  half  to 
two-thirds  the  size  of  flour-barrels,  symmetrical  in  shape, 
and  come  from  the  south  of  France.  They  are  painted 
with  some  light  fresh  color,  and  prettily  ornament  the 
cool,  paved,  jalousied  courts.  Nine-tenths  of  the  water 
used  for  cooking  and  drink- 
ing is  this  cistern  water,  

and  when  the  cisterns  get 
low,  as  they  do  two  or 
three  times  a  year,  there  is 
actual  suffering  in  the  poor 
districts,  back  from  the  riv- 
er. The  river  water  was 
not  filtered  Avhen  1  was 
there,  but  large  filters 
were  contracted  for,  and 
are  by  this  time  supplying 
an  abundance  of  clear  wa- 
ter. 

I  should  think  that  the 
coolest  place  in  New  Or- 
leans in  summer  must  be 
the  Boston  Ohib.  It  sug- 
gests some  club  -  houses 
that  I  have  seen  in  the 
Cuban  cities,  but  it  is  lit- 
tle like  any  other  in  this  country.  It  is  white  with- 
out and  light  and  open  within.     An  open  porch  on  one 

57    . 


WINDOW  IN  OLD  FRENCH  QUARTER 


side,  hidden  from  the  street,  serves  to  cool  the  entire 
house  in  summer,  and  as  a  pleasant  retreat  for  card- 
players  and  smokers  all  through  the  year.  There  ai-e 
four  notable  clubs  in  New  Orleans,  and  they  stand  near 
one  another  in  a  row  upon  Canal  Street.  The  Boston 
is  the  oldest  and  choicest.  It  was  organized  in  1845, 
and  was  not  named  in  honor  of  the  Athens  of  America, 
43ut  after  a  game  at  cards  which  was  popular  at  the 
time.  Another  game  furnished  the  Chess  Club  its  title, 
though  that  is  but  a  nickname,  the  full  title  being  ^'  The 
Chess,  Checkers,  and  Whist  Club."  The  Harmony  is  the 
Jewish  club,  in  essence,  though  it  is  not  sectarian.  The 
most  modern  house  and  most  youthful  club  in  member- 
ship and  spirit  was  the  Pickwick ;  but  since  my  visit 
there  this  club  has  vacated  its  fine  quarters,  which  have 
become  those  of  a  hotel  of  the  same  name.  The  club  is 
temporarily  housed  in  a  more  modest  manner.  The 
Boston  Club,  always  the  more  exclusive,  has  taken  upon 
itself  the  full  burden  of  popularity  as  well,  but  it  does 
not  offer  what  the  Pickwick  did  in  its  glory.  There, 
after  the  opera  or  a  country  ride,  or  rout  of  any  sort, 
the  most  brilliant  beauties  of  the  old  and  the  new  town 
were  to  have  been  seen  in  the  softened  light  of  electric- 
ity lunching  with  their  cavaliers,  while  the  usual  club 
routine  went  on  above  the  ladies  restaurant  as  if  there 
were  no  women  near. 

The  best  place  to  see  the  famed  belles  of  New  Orleans 
is  in  the  French  Opera-house  on  a  fashionable  night  at 
the  opera.  Then  there  are  scores  there — blondes  with 
limpid  blue  eyes,  and  complexions  of  roses  and  cream  ; 
brunettes  of  the  purest  types  with  rounding  forms,  great 
black  orbs,  hair  of  Japanese  black,  and  skins  of  softest 
brown ;  Spanish  Creoles  with  true  oval  faces,  long  nar- 
row eyes,  the  same  soft  sun  -  kissed  complexions,  with 
proud  bearing,  and  mouths  like  Cupid's  bow.     AYith 

.   58 


THE  NEW  ORLEANS  YACHT  CLUB 


them  are  our  American  girls  from  all  over  the  coun- 
try, boasting  the  eclectic  beauty  of  many  blended  na- 
tionalities. The  place  is  like  a  great  bouquet.  They 
dress  almost  like  Parisians,  and  that  is  one  great  secret 
of  the  splendid  fame  they  have  won. 

To  a  great  extent  the  Creoles  even  now  remain  apart 
from  the  Americans,  in  pursuance  of  the  spirit  that  led 
their  ancestors  never  to  cross  Canal  Street  beyond  their 
own  old  quarter,  and  even  to  riot  when  the  shipping  be- 
gan to  collect  in  front  of  the  American  half  of  the  town. 

59 


But  there  is  more  and  more  mixing  of  the  races,  and 
marriages  between  the  two  grow  more  and  more  fre- 
quent, so  that  it  is  felt  that  another  generation  may 
break  down  all  the  false  barricades  between  the  peo- 
ples. As  to  the  marriages,  it  is  said  to  require  a  bold 
and  indomitable  man  to  court  a  Creole,  because  when  he 
calls  upon  her  he  finds  the  court  and  the  parlor  dark, 
and  he  waits  while  the  servants  light  up  the  place  for 
him.  Then  the  parents  come  in,  European  fashion,  and 
sit  in  the  room  while  he  "  sparks "  the  ravisher  of  his 
heart.  But  all  agree  that  when  the  end  is  come,  and  she 
is  his  bride,  he  is  going  to  be  envied  among  men,  for 
there  are  no  better  wives  or  lovelier  mothers  than  those 
dark-tressed,  brown-skinned,  graceful,  soft-voiced  Creole 
women. 

It  gives  a  peculiar  sensation  to  hear  Cable  abused  by 
the  Creoles — and  you  never  can  hear  anything  but  abuse 
of  him.  "  George  W.  Cable  and  Benjamin  Butler  ?  Bah ! 
Let  them  show  themselves  in  New  Orleans  ;  that's  all." 
This  astonished  me,  though  I  had  heard  I  was  to  expect 
it.  It  had  seemed  to  me  that  they  must  in  their  hearts 
recognize  the  tenderness  with  which  he  deals  with  many 
of  his  heroes  and  heroines,  the  grace  with  which  he 
clothes  them,  the  soft  light  he  turns  upon  most  of  them ; 
and  to-day  I  believe  that  in  their  hearts  they  know  that 
he  has  done  for  them  something  of  what  Longfellow  did 
for  the  Acadians  in  "  Evangeline."  Surely  he  it  was  who 
lifted  them  to  a  sentimental  and  romantic  realm,  out 
from  their  walled -in  courts  of  the  French  quarter.  I 
still  believe  that  it  is  only  a  sense  of  mistaken  self-re- 
spect that  causes  them  to  fancy  that  they  must  assail 
him,  because  they  showed  me  many  of  the  places  he 
described,  and  told  me  with  poorly  hidden  pride  that 
much,  aye,  most  of  what  he  describes  is  true.  But  he 
was  a  New  Orleans  man,  and  should  not  have  betrayed 

60 


AT  THE  OLD  FRENCH  OPERA-HOUSE 


his  neighbors.  Some  said  "  he  was  of  the  South,  yet  he 
writes  hke  an  old-time  aboUtionist."  And  3^et  these  are 
not  the  true  reasons  for  their  animosity,  not  the  whole 
truth.  I  believe  I  am  right  when  I  say  that  what  really 
wounds  them  most  deeply  is  his  mocking  their  broken 
English.  As  a  writer,  I  have  never  been  so  certain  of 
hurting  the  feelings  of  others  as  when  I  imitated  their 
dialects,  or  mistakes  in  grammar,  or  awkward  efforts  to 
pronounce  our  words.  It  angers  every  race;  and  the 
more  intelligent  the  race,  the  deeper  the  sting  and  the 
anger.  I  am  the  more  sure  this  diagnosis  of  tlie  case  in 
point  is  correct,  because  the  manner  in  which  he  makes 
his  characters  talk  was  always  bitterly  alluded  to,  if  at 
all.  "  He  puts  negro  words  into  our  mouths  ;  he  copies 
the  servants'  talk,  and  puts  it  in  the  mouths  of  the  la- 
ddies and  gentlemen." 

The  funeral  notices  tacked  upon  the  telegraph  poles 
and  awning  posts  interest  strangers.  I  have  heard 
Northern  men  in  business  in  New  Orleans  speak  in 
praise  of  this  method  of  publishing  the  deaths,  because, 
they  say,  these  cards  are  read  when  the  newspaper 
funeral  notices  might  not  be.  I  copied  one  or  two,  and 
will  reproduce  them  here,  with  tlie  names  changed,  of 
course : 


JEANNE, 
Fille  de  James  Coudert  et  de  Adele  Palm. 


Les  amis  et  connaissance  dcs  families  Conderl,  Palm,  Rochefort,  et 
Bellecamp  sont  pries  d'assister  a  ses  funerailles,  qui  auront  lieu  Same- 
di,  apres-midi,  a  4  heures. 

Le  eonvoi  partira  de  la  residence  des  parents,  No.  2091  rue  Plaisant, 
entre  St.  Jacque  et  Couronne. 


62 


And  here  is  one  in  English 


BIRMINGHxVM. 


DIED, 

Wednesday  evening,  March  2,  1892,  at  half-past  six  o'clock,  R.  L. 
BiKMiXGiiAM,  aged  forty-seven  years. 


The  friends  and  acquaintances  of  the  Birmingham,  Smith,  Robinson, 
and  Decatur  families  are  respectfully  invited  to  attend  the  funeral, 
which  will  take  place  this  (Thursday)  evening  at  half-past  four  o'clock 
from  Trinity  Church. 


An  eccentric  gentleman,  exercising  the  inalienable 
privileges  of  freedom,  makes  it  his  business  to  read  all 
these  placards,  and  to  tear  down  those  that  have  served 
their  purpose,  else  no  one  can  say  what  would  become  of 
the  poles  and  posts  as  they  accumulated.  Another 
custom  in  mortuary  matters  there  is  the  publication  in 
the  Picayune  and  T lines- Democrat  of  eulogistic  refer- 
ences to  the  dead  by  way  of  notifying  the  public  of  the 
sad  occurrence.  These  obituary  cards  are  quite  as  pe- 
culiar in  their  own  way  as  the  rhyming  notices  of  Bal- 
timore and  Philadelphia. 

Without  turning  far  from  the  subject,  it  may  be  said 
that  (though  I  do  not  in  any  degree  favor  the  custom 
which  leads  our  citizens  everywhere  to  insist  upon  driv- 
ing visitors  to  the  cemeteries  as  first  among  the  "  sights  " 
of  our  cities)  it  is  certain  that  the  cemeteries  of  ^ew 
Orleans  are  worth  a  visit.  They  are  not  only  unlike 
any  burial-yards  known  to  the  rest  of  the  country,  they 
are  beautiful  as  well.  The  grounds  are  laid  out  much  as 
are  our  own  in  the  North,  but  the  white  shell  roads  and 
paths  enhance  the  neat  and  tidy  effect  such  places  usu- 

68 


ally  boast.  They  are  truly  "  cities  of  the  dead,"  for  the 
tombs  are  houses  built  upon  the  ground,  and  provided 
with  cubby  -  hole  or  drawerlike  compartments,  to  be 
sealed  with  a  marble  slab  as  each  coffin  is  put  in  place. 
The  term  "  oven  tombs "  describes  them  well.  I  can 
easily  believe  that  in  no  other  cemeteries  is  seen  such 
evidence  of  a  great  outlay  of  money,  for  these  mauso- 
leums are  built  of  marble  and  granite,  or,  at  the  worst,  of 
brick  stuccoed  to  look  like  stone.  Some  are  round- 
topped,  but  more  are  of  the  form  of  miniature  Grecian 
temples.  They  exhibit  statues,  crowns,  crosses,  and  ev^en 
most  elaborate  panelling  and  carving.  These  buildings 
rise  white  and  gray  from  mounds  of  green,  beside  white 
shell  roads,  beneath  orange-trees  laden  with  golden  fruit, 
magnolias,  cedars,  and  oaks,  some  of  the  trees  being 
draped  or  bearded  with  pendant  moss. 

Of  course  it  is  understood  that  the  burials  are  above- 
ground  because  of  the  moisture  in  the  soil.  Yet  I  saw 
earthy  graves  in  a  shabby  little  cemetery  in  the  city, 
where  also  weeping- willows  lent  a  familiar  aspect  to 
the  scene.  This  was  at  the  yard  of  the  chapel  of  St. 
Roche  (pronounced  "  Koke  "),  by  far  the  strangest  place 
of  worship  I  have  seen — even  in  Canada  or  California. 
Standing  up  tall  and  shallow,  like  a  kitchen  clock,  is  a 
little  brick  chapel  whose  front  is  all  but  hidden  behind 
ivy.  It  has  kneehng-benches  but  no  pews,  and  under  its 
altar  is  a  recumbent  life-size  figure  of  the  Saviour,  un- 
clad as  He  was  lifted  from  the  cross.  But  it  is  what  is 
on  the  altar  that  is  most  novel.  All  about  upon  its 
shelves  are  lozenges  of  marble  shaped  like  great  visiting 
cards.  On  them  are  carved  such  legends  as  "  Thanks"  ; 
"  Thanks,  J.  W.";  "  Merci  ";  "  Thanks,  granted  June  30, 
1891."  Hanging  by  ribbons  on  the  same  altar  are  w^ax 
casts  of  little  baby  hands,  or  hands  and  fore-arms,  or  tiny 
feet.  One  large  pair  of  hands  stands  there  in  a  glass 
E  65 


ALONG   THE   SHELL   ROAD 


case.  All  these  are  offerings  of  those  for  whose  prayers 
such  members  have  been  rescued  from  disease  or  use- 
lessness.  A  double  score  of  candles  burn  on  the  altar, 
and  as  many  men  and  women  pray  before  it.  The  four- 
teen stations  of  the  cross,  seen  in  all  Catholic  churches, 
are  here  placed  out-of-doors  in  little  shelters  of  open- 
work wood,  upon  which  vines  creep  and  illuminate  their 

66 


foliage  with  blossoms.  It  would  be  difficult  to  find  in 
New  Orleans  anything  more  picturesque  than  is  seen 
when  hopeful  women  are  passing  from  one  to  another 
of  these  holy  emblems,  to  kneel  at  each  in  prayer. 

A  very  remarkable  German  was  in  charge  of  this  sanc- 
tuary, and  unconsciously  relieved  the  tension  upon  those 
who  were  awed  by  the  funerieal  and  religious  character 
of  the  premises.  Pie  did  not  mean  to  be  funny,  but 
he  was  exceedingly  so.  He  went  about  hammering  the 
virgins  and  saints  on  the  figured  tablets  of  the  stations 
of  the  cross,  and  saying,  "  You  see  dot.  Dot  vos  pronze 
from  Munich ;  chenuwine  pronze."  He  bustled  into 
the  chapel,  past  all  the  kneeling  supplicants,  and  talked 
about  the  things  there — even  the  most  sacred  ones — 
like  an  auctioneer.  Those  who  knew  him  very  well  all 
united  in  declaring  that  he  was  a  zealous  and  dutiful 
janitor. 

"  Ach,"  he  exclaimed  to  me,  "  I  do  vish  dey  vouldn't 
bury  all  der  time.  Efen  on  Sundays  dey  bury  ;  all  der 
whole  vhile  it  goes  on,  und  I  can't  get  avay  by  mineself 
for  a  rest.  In  Chermany,  vhere  I  used  to  been,  ve  took 
Sundays  off,  und  tied  from  a  bell  alretty  some  strings 
to  der  big  toe  of  each  corpse.  Sure,  then,  if  der  corpse 
gets  alive  und  moves,  der  bell  rings — eh  ?  But  here  it 
is  efery  day  de  same — bury,  bury,  all  der  whiles.  Yell, 
it  don't  matter,  pecause  vhen  I  do  go  avay  to  haf  a 
gwiet  glass  of  beer  I  get  no  beace.  Everybody  knows 
me,  und  everybody  points  me  out  und  says,  '  See !  dot's 
der  olt  man  from  St.  Roche's.' " 

He  wondered  if  he  would  ever  be  where  people  would 
not  point  him  out  and  tell  one  anotlier  who  he  was. 
Alas  !  it  will  not  be  in  heaven,  good  old  soul.  Even 
those  whose  tongues  are  silent  in  the  yard  you  watch 
will  find  voices  there  to  tell  the  others  who  you  are. 

I  have  neither  the  space  nor  the  inclination  to  de- 

67 


scribe  the  French  market,  the  cathedral,  the  French 
quarter,  and  those  other  really  charming  bits  of  the 
city  which  have  been  the  subjects  of  descriptive  arti- 
cles and  letters  since  our  grandfathers'  days.  I  like 
them  none  the  less,  and  they  remain  powerful  magnets 
to  draw  future  battalions  of  tourists  there.  These  are 
parts  of  the  thing  we  call  the  "  foreign  air"  of  the  city, 
and  I  hope  that  with  the  manifest  new  energy  of  New 


r^^lpifl 


1 

J. — ^.. 


THE   QUEER   OLD   CHURCH   OP   ST.  ROCHE 

Orleans  they  will  not  be  "  improved."  I  suppose  it 
cannot  be  expected  that  people  will  ever  understand 
the  full  value  of  the  relics  of  their  past.  The  bric-a-brac 
we  treasure  is  always  what  some  one  else  has  parted 
with.  Here  in  New  Orleans,  as  up  in  Montreal,  the 
people  insist  upon  taking  visitors  to  see  the  new  part 
of  each  city,  among  the  modern  residences;  and  the 
visitors  persist  in  hastening  back  to  the  old  French  quar- 
ters, always  and  every  time. 

St.  Charles  Avenue  and  the  Garden  District  are  al- 
most semi-rural,  like  the  best  parts  of  "the  Hill"  in 
Brooklyn,  or  the  outlying  parts  of  our  finer  cities.  The 
large  galleried  houses  stand  back  in  broad  gardens,  with 

68 


the  most  beautiful  surroundings  of  lawn,  banana-plants, 
orange -trees,  clouds  of  roses — especially  of  Cherokee 
roses,  which  bloom  in  clouds — magnolias,  China  berries, 
and  hedges  of  many  sorts.  Trees  of  pretty  shapes  and 
lordly  shade-giving  quality  stand  in  ranks  along  the 
streets,  and  the  views  down  the  cross-streets  are  bow- 
ery ;  often  they  are  vistas  under  meeting  branches. 
There  are  some  rambling  old  Southern  mansions  with 
halls  through  the  centres,  some  modern  stately  man- 
sions, and  some  little  boxes  of  the  universal  sort  that 
coquet  with  the  tiresome  memory  of  good  Queen  Anne. 


THE   CLAIBORNE  COTTAGES— A  SUMMER  RESORT   OF  NEW  ORLEANS  IN 
THE   PINY   WOODS 


Those  bashful  men  whose  courage  grows  weak  on  the 
door-steps  where  they  are  about  to  make  a  call  would 
never,  I  am  sure,  get  into  the  average  house  in  the  Gar- 
den District  if  they  did  not  know  any  more  about  ^N^ew 
Orleans  customs  than  I  did  when  I  paid  my  first  visit 
there.  They  ^vould  find  before  them  a  door  with  a 
handle,  and  no  other  protuberance  —  button,  knocker, 
pull,  handle,  or  anything  else.  Much  to  the  delight  of 
several  very  young  ladies  on  an  opposite  veranda  (the 
thought  of  how  much  pleasure  I  was  able  to  give  them 
will  long  console  me),  I  fell  at  last  to  knocking  with  my 

69 


A  BIT  OF  OLD  ARCHITECTURE  IN  THE  FRENCH  QUARTER 


knuckles,  like  a  mendicant  at  a  window.  By-and-by  a 
maid  let  me  in. 

"Oh,  was  that  you  making  that  funny  noise?"  the 
mistress  of  the  house  inquired.  "  I've  been  listening  to 
it  for  a  long  while,  and  could  not  imagine  what  it  could 
be." 

With  what  pride  remained  to  me  I  modestly  suggest- 
ed that  I  could  not  ring  a  bell  when  there  was  none  to 
ring,  as  spirits  do  in  table-rappers'  closets.  I  added  that 
I  would  give  five  dollars  to  the  local  blind  asylum  if  any 
one  could  show  me  a  bell  anywhere  on  or  around  the 
front  door. 

"  Of  course  there  isn't  any,"  remarked  the  lady  ;  "  in 
Kew  Orleans  we  put  the  bell  on  the  post  of  the  front 
gate." 

How  on  earth  —  who  could  blame  —  but,  as  she  re- 
marked, that  i6  where  they  hide  the  front-door  bells  in 
New  Orleans. 

Certainly  a  typical  Chicago  man  would  throw  up  his 


hands  in  horror  at  the  lamentable  backwardness  of  the 
city,  at  the  absence  of  most  of  the  newfangled  means  for 
making  modern  lives  automatic  and  mechanical.  We 
who  seek  change  in  travel,  and  who  are  rested  where 
others  rest,  love  New  Orleans  all  the  better  for  its  so- 
called  faults.  The  chief  beast  of  burden  is  the  mule,  and 
they  have  the  finest  mules  and  the  sorriest  horses  im- 
aginable. But  the  noted  mule-cars  of  old,  that  used  to 
creak  and  jolt  and  rattle  and  bump  through  the  heart 
of  town,  have  at  last  given  place  to  age-end  trolley-cars. 


STREET   IN   THE    OLD   FRENCH   QUARTER,  FROM  THE   HOTEL   ROYA.L 

71 


The  electric  lights  are  mounted  on  tall  towers  of  iron 
lattice- work,  just  as  they  were  in  Detroit  the  last  time  I 
was  there,  and  as  if  the  object  of  the  people  w^as  to  light 
the  clouds  rather  than  the  city.  The  milk -carts  are 
worth  going  to  see.  They  are  little  two-wheelers,  like 
our  ^N'ew  York  butcher-carts,  and  each  one  has  in  front 
two  gorgeous  great  cans  bound  with  brass  hoops  that 
are  as  lustrous  as  jewelry.  Women  drive  many  of  these 
carts,  but  when  they  are  managed  by  men  they  dart 
madly  about,  and  accidents  to  them  are  frequent.  A 
lady  friend  of  mine  who  once  failed  to  receive  the  day's 
milk  went  to  the  door  next  day  to  dismiss  the  offender. 
She  came  back  almost  in  tears,  for  he  appeared  to  her 
with  his  face  peeled  and  one  arm  in  a  sling.  "Par-r-r- 
don  me,"  he  said ;  "  ze  'ole  business  h'all  tip  ovaire  on 
de  street." 

The  hod -carriers  tote  the  bricks  on  their  heads, 
balancing  heavy  loads  on  cushions  that  lit  upon 
their  crowns.  The  dog  -  catchers  go  about  snaring 
vagrant  curs  with  slip  -  nooses  at  the  end  of  short 
sticks.  Then  they  pitch  the  dogs  into  strange  barrel- 
like wagons.  Such  a  row  as  a  New  Orleans  cur 
sets  up  when  he  feels  himself  jerked  up  by  a  hind 
leo:  ouo^ht  to  soften  the  hearts  of  the  stones  under 
their  feet.  It  does  bring  the  women  out  from  the 
doors  and  windows  of  several  blocks  of  houses.  Men 
stand  about  selling  alligators  that  they  keep  in  bas- 
kets and  cages,  many  of  the  beasts  being  too  young 
to  know  that  the  proper  thing  for  an  alligator  is  to 
be  sluggish  and  slow.  In  their  ignorance  they  slap 
about  and  climb  and  snap  with  their  jaws  with  the 
activity  and  malice  of  so  many  hornets.  Women  sell 
pralines  and  pecan  candy,  of  which  we  know  noth- 
ing until  we  go  there,  and  "oyster  loaves"  (adver- 
tised as  "family  peace  -  makers :    take    one    with  you 


w-.« ,..♦> 


BAKER  8   CART 


when  you  go  home  late")  are  among  the  queer  edibles 
of  the  place.      I  desired  to  taste  one  for  the  peace 
of  my  curiosity,  but  I  never  found  out  where  I  could 
take  or  what  I  could  do  with  a  loaf  of  bread  stuffed 
with  cooked  oys- 
ters.    Men  make 
jewelry     in     the 
streets    by    curl- 
ing    gold     wire 
into    the    forms 
of     the     written 
names    of   wom- 
en, and  these  are 
worn    as    breast- 
pins.    Such  arti- 
ficers know  more 
than  wiser  men ; 
for    who    would 
dream  that  wom- 
en would  care  to  display  their  given  names  and  pet 
names  to  the  public  in  shining  letters?     But  the  men 
were  kept  busy  as   long  as   I  was  there,  and  I  saw 
a  two -hundred -and -twenty -pound  woman  fasten  the 
word  "  Birdie "  to  the  throat  of  her  dress  and  walk 
proudly  away. 

The  law  courts  are  in  the  ancient  Spanish  government 
building,  and,  in  keeping  with  that  still  impressive  pile, 
the  officials  barricade  the  street  in  front  with  a  chain 
drawn  across  it,  to  preserve  quiet  during  the  proceedings. 
The  police,  who  are  few  in  number,  for  there  is  no  hood- 
lum or  " gang"  element  of  ruffians  in  the  city,  are  dressed, 
like  our  New  York  firemen,  in  caps  and  coats  with  silver 
buttons.  The  lottery  being  legalized,  tickets  are  openly 
displayed  in  the  shop  windows,  and  are  sold  on  the  side- 
walks by  men,  women,  and  children.     One  store  for  the 

73 


sale  of  these  tickets  bears  such  a  legend  as  this  on  its 
sign:  ''This  is  lucky  Number  Eleven.  More  winning 
tickets  sold  here  than  anywhere  else  in  town." 

There  was  a  drawing  while  I  was  in  the  city,  and 
knowing  that  the  lottery  company  was  not  to  ask  for  a 
renewal  of  its  privileges,  and  that  its  power  and  the 
scenes  and  customs  growing  out  of  it  were  soon  to  be- 
come mere  memories,  I  availed  myself  of  the  opportunity 
to  witness  its  chief  public  operation  and  the  historic 
characters  who  have  been  induced  by  large  salaries  to 
figure  for  it.  The  drawing  took  place  in  a  theatre  called 
"  the  Academy  of  Music,"  at  eleven  o'clock  in  the  morn- 
ing. The  yellow  gas-jets  battled  feebly  with  the  day- 
light in  the  lobby  into  which  the  people  were  pressing 
without  let  or  qualification.  The  theatre  was  two-thirds 
full  at  last.  On  the  stage,  set  with  a  parlor  scene,  was 
a  knot  of  men  between  two  wheels.  The  wheel  on  the 
right  was  a  band  of  silver,  with  sides  of  glass  and  with 
a  door  in  the  metal  rim.  A  bushel  of  little  black  gutta- 
percha envelopes  the  size  of  dominoes  had  been  poured 
into  this  wheel,  and  a  white  boy,  blindfolded  with  a 
handkerchief,  stood  at  the  handle  of  the  crank  by  which 
the  wheel  was  turned.  He  had  one  arm  in  the  door  of 
the  wheel,  and  with  the  hand  of  the  other  arm  was  offer- 
ing a  tiny  envelope  to  General  Beauregard — the  last  sur- 
viving general  who  served  on  either  side  in  our  late  w^ar. 
A  fine,  most  gentlemanly-looking  man  he  was,  with  the 
features  of  a  French  courtier,  with  snowy  hair,  a  white 
mustache,  a  little  goatee,  and  the  pinkest  skin  a  baby 
ever  knew.  He  was  faultlessly  dressed.  Across  the 
stage,  beside  a  very  much  larger  wheel  of  parti-colored 
boards,  sat  Major-General  Jubal  A.  Early  —  a  perfect 
type  of  the  conventional  figure  of  Father  Time;  tall, 
portly,  stoop-shouldered,  partly  bald,  and  with  a  long, 
heavy  white  beard.     He  was  dressed  all  in  the  color 


of  the  uniform  he  distinguished  by  his  valor  as  a  sol- 
dier. Alas,  for  human  frailty !  These  two  heroes  were 
said  to  receive  $30,000  apiece  each  year  for  their  duties 
performed  at  the  monthly  public  drawings  of  the  lottery. 

By  each  general  stood  a  blind- 
folded boy,  taking  numbers  out 
of  the  wheels  and  handing  them 
to  the  generals.  From  the  big 
wheel  to  Major-General  Early 
came  the  numbers  of  the  tick- 
ets; from  the  little  wheel  to 
General  Beauregard  came  the 
numbers  of  dollars  that  formed 
the  prize  each  ticket  had  won. 
By  each  general  stood  a  crier. 
Early  read  out,  "Twenty -one 
thousand  one  hundred  and 
fifty -two";  and  Beauregard, 
having  shelled  the  gutta-percha 
case  off  a  billet,  read  out,  "  Two 
hundred  dollars."  Then  the 
criers  took  the  billets  and  cried 
the  numbers,  "Twenty -one 
thousand  one  hundred  and 
fifty -two"  from  one;  "Tew 
hundred  dollars"  from  the 
other,  who,  by-the-way,  called 
out  tew  hundred  dollars  at  least 
tew  hundred  times.  But  all 
the  prizes  were  not  of  that 
amount.  I  chanced  to  hear 
the  capital  prize  read  out. 

"  Twenty-eight  thousand  four 
hundred  and  thirty-nine,"  said  Early, 
thousand  dollars,"  said  Beauregard. 


A  NEW  ORLEANS 
POLICEMAN 


"  Three  hundred 


The  effect  was  startling ;  indeed,  the  startled  senses 
refused  to  grasp  the  meaning  of  the  words.  The  criers 
repeated  the  figures.  The  people  in  the  theatre  craned 
forward,  a  hundred  pencils  shot  over  pads  or  bits  of 
paper  in  men's  and  women's  laps.  Then  a  murmur  of 
voices  sounded  all  over  the  house.  The  routine  on  the 
stage  was  halted,  for  the  criers  took  the  two  bits  of 
paper  to  some  clerks,  who  sat  at  tables  in  the  farther 
part  of  the  stage,  to  allow  them  to  verify  the  important 
fiofures.  Then  the  routine  beo^an  anew.  The  wheels 
were  revolved  every  few  minutes,  and  the  rubber  shells 
rattled  around  like  coffee  beans  in  a  roasting-cylinder. 
The  boys  took  off  their  bandages,  and  other  boys  were 
blindfolded  and  put  in  their  places.  The  criers  were 
relieved  by  others,  and  General  Beauregard  at  last 
grew  tired,  and  went  out  for  half  an  hour.  Among 
others  came  two  criers  who  kept  their  hats  on.  Think 
of  it!  There  hats  on,  covered,  in  the  presence  of  the 
God  of  Chance !  It  was  an  offence  against  the  unities ; 
it  was  making  light  of  the  solemn  mystery  of  luck. 
Every  man  who  drew  a  blank  that  month  owes  those 
rowdies  a  kick.  I  wondered  whether  such  a  thing 
could  have  happened  before  the  passage  of  the  postal 
bill  which  took  the  cream  off  the  business  and  the  nerve 
out  of  the  misguided  men  who  had  been  pressing  for 
a  renewal  of  the  lottery  charter. 

They  have  a  stranger  thing  than  the  lottery  in 
New  Orleans,  and  that  is  the  word  "lagniappe." 
"Take  that  for  a  lagniappe"  (pronounced  lanyap), 
says  a  storekeeper  as  he  folds  a  pretty  calendar  into 
the  bundle  of  stationery  you  have  purchased.  *'  What 
are  you  going  to  give  me  for  a  lagniappe?"  a  child 
asks  after  ordering  five  cents'  worth  of  candy.  A 
lagniappe  means  something  thrown  in,  something  extra, 
something  more  than  is  paid  for;  and  lagniappes  are 

76 


looked  for  in  New  Orleans  by  servants  and  children 
especially.  The  merchants  give  something,  if  it  is  only 
a  stick  of  candy  or  a  shining 
trinket,  and  he  Avho  chooses 
such  things  wisely  profits  in  an 
increased  business.  It  is  the 
thirteen  of  "a  baker's  dozen," 
the  "this  for  good  measure," 
which  we  are  all  more  or  less 
accustomed  to.  I  read  an  un- 
likely story  to  account  for  it  in 
one  of  the  New  Orleans  papers, 
telling  how  a  grocer  kept  a  long 
ape  that  annoyed  him  by  pilfer- 
ing, and  how,  when  a  child 
came  to  complain  that  he  had 
not  given  good  measure  to  her 
mother  when  she  had  bought 
butter  that  day,  he  threw  the 
ape  at  the  child,  saying,  "  Here, 
take  lagniappe  [long  ape],  and 
be  off  Avith  you."  I  asked  many 
of  the  more  intelligent  men  of 
the  town,  but  not  one  who  could 
give  me  the  derivation  of  the 
word,  the  custom  itself  being 
familiar  as  humanity,  though 
seldom  practised  so  generally 
in  a  large  city. 

The    second  -  hand    shops   in 
New    Orleans,    taken    togeth- 
er, equal  a  great  museum.    Strangers  hang  around  them 
like  moths  near  candle-lights,  for  in  the  city  are  many 
old  families  that  are  obliged  to  part  with  heirlooms  one 
by  one,  or  that  cease  to  value  them,  and  prefer  newer 

77 


VENDER   OF   LOTTERY 
TICKETS 


things.  Here,  then,  one  ma}^  buy  whole  sets  of  solid 
Empire  and  Directoire  furniture  and  furnishings — clocks, 
candle-glasses,  china,  cut  glass,  andirons,  tongs,  snuffers, 
four-post  canopied  bedsteads,  and  no  one  knows  what 
all. 


TYPES   OF  THE  DAGO 


I  find  that,  in  the  space  of  a  chapter,  there  is  not  room 
to  do  justice  to  half  of  what  is  noteworthy  in  New  Or- 
leans. I  had  hoped  to  tell  of  the  picturesque  Italians, 
their  occupations,  their  fleet  of  luggers,  and  their  stand- 
ing in  the  community  since  "  the  Maffia  affair."  I  meant 
to  describe  the  charming  resorts  and  the  beauties  of  the 
piny-woods  regions,  the  Bayou  Teche  country,  and  the 
shores  of  Lake  Pontchartrain.  The  delicious  cooking 
and  notable  dishes  peculiar  to  the  place  were  in  my 
mind  when  I  began  this  chapter,  and  —  though  I  had 
meant  to  confine  myself  to  what  others  had  not  dwelt 
strongly  upon — the  educational  institutions,  the  promise 
of  a  strong  art  atmosphere,  and  even  the  notable  ath- 
letic, gymnastic,  and  yachting  clubs  deserved  description. 
The  excellent  sport  with  rod  and  gun  afforded  in  the 
neighborhood  of  the  city  also  interested  me ;  but  I  must 

78 


leave  the  field  to  others,  and  turn  to  a  study  of  the  com- 
mercial interests  of  the  enterprising  city. 

Over  fifty  per  cent,  of  the  active  business  men  of  the 
city  are  from  the  North  and  West,  and  the  work  of  so- 
called  reconstruction  is  partl}^  in  the  hands  of  nature 
by  means  of  intermarriage  and  partly  left  to  business 
in  the  forming  of  commercial  partnerships.  I  did  not 
happen  to  meet  a  single  "  hostile  "  there.  I  met  only 
one  in  the  course  of  my  entire  journey  from  St.  Louis  to 
Florida  and  home  again.  I  sympathized  with  that  one 
because  she  was  an  aristocratic  old  lady  of  nearly  eighty 
years,  who  had  been  locked  up  in  a  jail  for  ten  days  for 
refusing  to  salute  the  soldiers  who  had  seized  her  man- 
sion for  their  headquarters.  I  was  told  in  New  Orleans 
that  there  are  a  few  unreconstructed  men  there ;  but  no 
one  heeds  them,  and  they  are  such  only  because  in  no 
other  way  than  by  startling  and  loud  talking  would 


DAGOS  AND  THEIR  BOATS 
79 


they  be  able  to  attract  attention  to  themselves.  On  the 
contrary,  the  warmest  patriotism  prevails,  even  among 
the  wrecks  and  ruins  of  fortunes  and  of  futures  which 
have  turned  thousands  of  lives  into  the  next  thing  to 
tragedies.  Northern  men  are  made  welcome  there,  and 
so  heartily  that  in  one  of  the  leading  clubs  heretofore 
sustained  by  the  native  leaders  of  the  people  two  of  the 
three  members  elected  as  the  executive  committee  are 
men  from  the  North. 

It  must  be  remembered  that,  in  a  great  measure,  the 
original  business  men  of  the  city  were  Northerners  and 
foreigners,  the  natives  in  ante-war  days  having  been 
land-owners,  planters,  and  clerks.  Now,  as  I  say,  the 
Northern  men  are  in  the  majority  in  trade.  They  tell 
me,  what  I  heard  everywhere  in  the  South,  that  the 
prosperity  of  that  most  attractive  section  of  our  land 
will  be  permanently  assured  when  cotton  is  grown  only 
as  a  surplus  crop  or  by-product.  The  planter  will  then 
be  able  to  sell  cotton  for  two  cents  a  pound,  but  will  be 
in  a  position  to  demand  twelve  cents. 

New  Orleans,  from  a  commercial  point  of  view,  is 
new-born,  or,  at  least,  she  is  but  newly  recovering  the 
relation  to  our  great  country  of  the  present  time  which 
she  bore  to  the  smaller  one  of  ante-helhim  days.  The 
constant  dread  of  fever  retarded  her  progress,  or  she 
might  now  have  been  one  of  the  ver}^  great  cities  of  the 
world.  Now  nearly  two  decades  have  passed  without  a 
visit  from  yellow  fever,  and  it  has  become  evident  not 
only  that  this  dread  disease  is  an  exotic,  but  that  the  city 
is  in  other  respects  a  safe  and  pleasant  place  of  residence. 

It  has  a  fresh- water  harbor,  with  a  permanent  twenty- 
six  foot  channel,  and  solid,  unchanging  banks  for  build- 
ings. Its  inland  waterways  lead  to  the  iron  region  of 
Pennsylvania,  the  lead  mines  of  Missouri,  and  the  cop- 
per region  of  Michigan.     It  is  the  seaport  terminus  of 

80 


several  great  trunk  railway  lines,  and  the  supply  depot 
for  Texas,  the  Southwest,  Mexico,  and  Central  Amer- 
ica. It  commands  1500  miles  of  seaboard,  and  its  mer- 
chants assert  that  the  internal  waterways  behind  it,  which 
are  navigable  or  can  be  made  so,  reach  18,000  miles. 

Tlie  building  up  of 
populations  in  Texas 
and  the  Southwest,  a 
region  that  is  grow- 
ing like  a  bed  of  weeds, 
is  helping  Kew  Orleans 
as  its  natural  depot  of 
supplies.  Mexico,  the 
Central  American 
states,  and  the  country 
along  the  Southern 
Pacific  system  to  Cal- 
ifornia, are  but  slightly 
less  tributary  to  it. 
The  inland  water  sys- 
tem terminating  at 
New  Orleans  affects  a 
region  extending  be- 
yond Kansas  City. 
Chicago,  St.  Paul,  St. 
Louis,  and  other  West- 
ern cities  now  import 
through  Xew  Orleans, 

which  is  thus  put  in  direct  competition  with  New  York 
for  the  foreign  business  with  our  West.  The  actual 
traffic  on  the  Mississippi  Piver  and  its  tributaries  is 
relatively  small,  yet  it  establishes  low  freight  rates  by 
land  and  water,  and  the  more  the  river  is  improved  the 
cheaper  will  be  the  transportation  of  all  bulky  and  non- 
perishable  freights. 

P  81 


THE   OLD   AND   THE   NEW   SOUTH 


Business  in  New  Orleans  is  on  a  very  solid  and  con- 
servative basis.  With  cotton  grown  at  a  loss  there  have 
been  practically  no  failures — that  is  to  say,  there  has 
been  no  increase  of  failures.  The  main  trouble  has  been 
that  the  capital  at  hand  has  been  insulBcient  for  the 
development  of  industries.  The  capital,  surplus,  and  de- 
posits of  the  New  Orleans  banks  is  about  $33,000,000, 
and  this  is  relied  upon  for  the  handling  of  from  two 
hundred  to  three  hundred  millions  of  dollars'  worth  of 
crops  every  year. 

The  importation  of  fruit  through  New  Orleans  is  a 
very  heavy  interest.  Only  a  few  3^ears  ago  the  city 
was  behind  New  York  in  the  volume  of  its  banana  im- 
ports, and  the  receipts  of  other  tropical  fruits  were 
small,  but  during  the  year  ending  in  the  spring  of  1892 
that  city  led  all  the  rest  in  the  banana  business,  beating 
New  York  by  nearly  170,000  bunches.  The  trade  is 
only  ten  years  old,  but  now  employs  several  lines  of 
steamers,  b^ging  from  three  to  five  cargoes  a  week. 
During  1891,  in  addition  to  an  enormous  mass  of  cocoa- 
nuts  and  oOler  fruits,  3,735,481  bunches  of  bananas  were 
unladen  there.  The  reasons  for  this  development  are 
obvious.  The  run  from  the  fruit  lands  to  New  Orleans 
is  a  short  one,  and  is  made  in  vessels  especially  fitted 
for  the  trade.  The  climate  of  the  city  insures  the  fruit 
against  cold  that  would  be  injurious  to  it  during  its 
transshipment  to  the  cars,  and  these  cars,  built  espe- 
cially for  the  trade  and  run  on  express  time,  quickly 
distribute  it  among  all  the  centres  of  population  in 
the  West.  The  direct  importation  of  fruits  from  the 
Mediterranean  shores  is  also  growing  into  a  consider- 
able business,  which  owes  its  increase  to  the  constantly 
multiplying  number  of  vessels  that  come  to  New  Or- 
leans to  get  wheat,  cotton,  and  other  return  cargoes. 
The  swift  steamers  in  the  Central  American  fruit  trade 

83 


carry   back   American    products,  and   this   business   is 
seen  to   be   growing  under   our    reciprocity    treaties, 
which  thus  operate  to  give  New  Orleans  a  share  of 
this   trade,  that,  but   for 
the    fruit    business,    she 
never  would  have  had. 

The  transshipment  of 
wheat  from  cars  and  Mis- 
sissippi barges  to  steam- 
ers for  abroad  is  a  tre- 
mendous industry  that 
had  grown  up  within  a 
year  of  the  time  when 
I  was  there  (March,  1892). 
It  is  a  consequence  of 
the  immense  crops,  of  the 
inability  of  the  Atlantic 
coast  ports  to  handle 
them,  and  of  the  fact 
that  a  large  number  of 
European  vessels  come 
to  Kew  Orleans,  either 
with  cargoes  or  in  bal- 
last, from  other  ports  to 
which  they  have  taken 
cargoes.  The  wheat 
reaches  this  port  by  way 
of  the  Illinois  Central, 
Mississippi  Yalley,  and 
Texas    Pacific   railroads, 

and  by  the  Mississippi  Barge  Company.  The  Missis- 
sippi Yalley  Eailroad  Company  has  an  elevator  that 
is  small,  but  handled  three  millions  of  bushels  of  wheat 
and  corn  between  September,  1891,  and  April,  1892. 
Another  and  larger  elevator  and  a  line  of  transatlantic 

83 


A  RELIC  OF  THE    "  OLD "   SOUTH 


steamers  were  contracted  for  by  this  company  at  that 
time.  The  Texas  Pacific  road  was,  at  the  same  period, 
building  an  elevator  with  350,000  bushels  capacity. 
The  elevator  capacity  of  the  port  has  alone  set  a  hmit 
upon  the  volume  of  this  business  that  can  be  got,  and 
it  is  evident  that  the  railroads  do  not  mean  to  stand  in 
their  own  way  in  this  respect.  The  exportation  of 
flour  had  also  been  very  considerable  within  the  year 
which  closed  while  I  was  there.  This  trade  is  due  to 
our  reciprocal  tariff  arrangements  with  Cuba  and  the 
South  and  Central  American  nations.  As  it  is,  the  city 
does  not  yet  include  a  flouring  -  mill,  and  that  staple 
comes  from  Missouri  and  Kansas,  always  in  bags,  to 
meet  the  demand  of  the  Latin  countries.  Flour,  agri- 
cultural implements,  beeves,  mules,  and  horses  are  now 
articles  of  large  export  to  those  lands. 

The  manufacture  of  fertilizers  is  an  important  indus- 
try. Pebble  phosphates  from  Florida  are  manufactured 
into  marketable  phosphate,  but  there  are  other  fertilizer 
companies  using  potash,  cotton-seed  meal,  and  phosphate 
to  make  a  product  that  is  used  on  the  cotton  and  sugar 
plantations.  It  is  interesting  to  find  that  one  staple  of 
the  South  thus  depends  upon  the  other,  for  cotton-seed 
meal  is  extensively  used  to  enrich  the  sugar  lands.  About 
10,000  tons  of  this  one  product  are  taken  off  the  land  in 
one  set  of  places  to  be  put  upon  it  in  another.  In  all, 
15,000  tons  of  fertilizers  for  the  cotton,  sugar,  and  rice 
plantations  are  annually  made  and  sold  in  New  Orleans. 
But  at  the  same  time  that  cotton  thus  helps  sugar, 
it  is  in  another  way  benefited,  in  turn,  b}'^  sugar. 
The  sugar  is  put  up  in  sacks  and  bags  made  of  cotton 
cloth.  A  very  large  business  in  cotton  and  burlap 
sacks  has  grown  out  of  the  sugar  -  refining  in  New 
Orleans.  The  Western  people,  among  whom  this  sugar 
finds  its  consumers,  prefer  100-pound  sacks  to  barrels. 

84 


The  sacks  are  easier  to  handle,  since  the}^  must  be 
carried  on  the  backs  of  mules  and  men ;  and  tlien,  again, 
the  sacks  are  more  useful  after  the  sugar  is  used  than 
barrels  would  be. 

The  refining  of  sugar  is  a  notable  industry  in  Ne\T 


t: 


CORNER   OF   BANK  BUILDING 

Orleans.  There  are  four  re- 
fineries in  and  out  of  the 
great  sugar  combination,  and 
all  are  kept  running  by  night 
and  by  day.  This  product 
is  made  of  Louisiana  and  West  Indian  crude  sugar, 
and  is  marketed  at  home  and  in  the  West  and  North- 
west. The  business  is  increasing  so  rapidly  as  to 
lead  serious  men  to  predict  that  in  time  New  Orleans 
will  supply  the  entire  country  between  the  Rockies 
and  the  Mississippi. 

85 


A  side  industry  of  the  Southern  (cotton  -  seed)  Oil 
Company  is  the  fattening  of  two  and  three  year  old 
cattle  from  Texas  on  cotton -seed  hulls  and  meal.  This 
results  in  considerable  shipments  of  cattle  to  Liverpool 
£fnd  to  the  stock-yards  of  the  West,  and  is  so  simple  and 
profitable  an  industry  that,  in  view  of  the  quantity  of 
such  food  which  is  obtainable,  it  would  seem  bound  to 
grow.  Cotton-seed  oil-cake  is  a  large  item  of  the  export 
business.  It  goes  to  England,  Scotland,  and  Germany, 
to  be  used  in  the  feeding  of  cattle.  New  Orleans  is  the 
birthplace  of  the  now  great  cotton-seed  oil  industry.  It 
has  five  or  six  mills,  some  that  are  in  the  trust  and  some 
that  are  independent,  and  the  seed  is  brought  from 
Texas,  Alabama,  Mississippi,  Arkansas,  and  the  Missis- 
sippi Yalley. 

The  cotton -pressing  industry  is  extensive  enough  to 
have  tempted  English  capital,  which  was  offered  for  the 
control  of  it  while  I  was  there.  It  is  one  of  the  laro^est 
businesses  and  fields  for  labor  in  the  city.  The  cotton  is 
brought  to  town  by  rail  and  boat.  It  is  then  classed, 
graded,  and  stored,  and  when  sold  is  reclassed,  weighed, 
and  compressed  for  shipment.  The  proportion  of  the 
cost  of  a  bale  of  cotton  which  is  paid  for  the  New  Or- 
leans labor  is  so  large  as  to  amount  to  the  lion's  share,  I 
was  told. 

The  unique  position  of  the  city  as  the  point  of  export 
for  the  cotton  crop  is  well  understood,  and  I  need  not 
enlarge  upon  the  subject.  In  1891  there  was  handled 
at  that  port  more  cotton  than  was  handled  there  in 
any  year  except  1860,  the  net  receipts  being  2,270,190 
bales,  exclusive  of  receipts  from  or  via  other  seaboard 
cities. 

New  Orleans  has  two  large  cotton  mills,  making 
brown  goods,  sheetings,  shirtings,  unbleached  and  col- 
ored goods,  and  hosiery  and  other  yarns.     One   mill 


runs  45,000  spindles,  and  the  other  16,000.  The  city 
also  has  a  very  large  brewing  interest,  maintaining 
fourteen  large  breweries,  and  supplying  not  only  the 
city  and  surrounding  country,  but  a  heavy  demand 
from  Central  and  South  America. 

Four  large  cigar  and  cigarette  factories  employ  2500 


ALONG   THE  LEVEE 


hands.  The  tobacco  in  use  is  obtained  from  Cuba,  Mex- 
ico, and  Sumatra,  and  from  Connecticut,  Florida,  and 
Wisconsin.  The  cigars  and  cigarettes  are  sold  largely 
in  Texas  and  California,  but  find  a  strong  market  in 
Chicago,  and,  to  a  less  extent,  in  New  York  and  Phila- 
delphia. One  house  turns  out  36,000,000  of  cigars  a 
year,  and  the  total  output  of  all  the  factories  is  54,000,- 
000  cigars  a  year.  One  hundred  and  fifty  millions  of 
cigarettes  are  made  there  annually.  The  output  of 
manufactured  tobaccos  is  small. 

87- 


No  foreign  ice  now  goes  to  New  Orleans.  The  eight 
or  ten  large  factories,  run  with  the  ammonia  process, 
supply  a  great  section  of  countrj^  around  the  Louisiana 
metropolis,  going  to  the  cities  and  small  towns  far  out 
on  the  railroads.  Mississippi  Eiver  water,  filtered,  is 
that  which  is  used.  This  making  of  artificial  ice  was 
begun  ten  or  twelve  years  ago,  but  has  greatly  increased 
in  the  last  half-dozen  years.  The  people  there  used  to 
pay  $14  and  $15  a  ton  for  ice,  but  it  is  novv^  sold  for  $5 
or  $6  a  ton. 

Another  industry  that  has  grown  amazingly  in  the 
last  three  to  five  years  is  the  manufacture  of  ready- 
made  clothing.  The  city  has  an  advantage  over  its 
competitors  in  being  able  to  draw  upon  an  extra-intelli- 
gent class  of  workers  on  these  goods — the  Creoles  and 
the  more  intelligent  and  industrious  negroes.  Many 
of  these,  especially  the  Creoles,  will  not  work  in  fac- 
tories, but  perform  the  labor  at  home,  and  do  much 
better  work  for  less  money  than  can  be  obtained  in 
the  North.  New  Orleans  supplies  the  South  and  South- 
west, and  is  even  beginning  to  ship  clothing  to  the 
North. 

All  the  rough  rice  raised  in  Louisiana  is  milled  in 
New  Orleans  in  twelve  or  fifteen  mills.  A  trust  has 
been  organized  there,  and  has  taken  in  most  of  these  es- 
tablishments. The  rice  is  of  a  high  grade,  and  is  sold 
all  over  the  country.  There  is  a  small  but  swelling  busi- 
ness in  the  making  of  boots  and  shoes.  The  fisheries 
employ  2000  men,  the  oyster  business  3000  men,  and 
the  catching  and  canning  of  shrimps  almost  1000 
men.  There  are  more  than  sixty  firms  handling 
Spanish  moss,  which  is  used  in  mattresses  and  up- 
holstering work. 

Olive  oil  is  being  made  in  New  Orleans  from  the  fruit 
of  an  olive  orchard  in  Mississippi,  eighty-four  miles  from 


the  city.  This  is  thought  to  be  the  beginning  of  a 
future  industry  of  great  extent.  It  is  ten  years  since 
olives  were  first  planted  by  the  present  experimenter, 
and  he  has  found  that  the  trees  will  bear  all  over  south- 
ern Louisiana,  and  that  frosts  which  will  destroy  oranges 
will  not  harm  this  fruit.  This  gentleman,  one  of  the 
shrewdest  business  men  in  the  city,  now  has  1500  trees, 
whose  fruit  he  last  season  pressed  into  oil.  The  trees 
will  bear  in  five  years  after  they  are  planted.  The  fruit 
ripens  in  August  and  September,  and  the  crop  is  thus 
ready  for  picking  three  to  five  months  before  olives  are 
gathered  in  southern  Europe.  The  fresh  American  oil 
will  have  that  advantage  over  the  European  oil,  besides 
the  saving  of  freight  and  the  customs  tax.  The  Ameri- 
can trees  are  seen  to  be  prolific  bearers,  and  the  fruit  is 
of  a  large  size,  and  of  a  quality  to  compete  with  an}^  in 
the  world.  This  gentleman  says  that  the  soil  of  the  en- 
tire Gulf  coast  from  Florida  to  Texas  is  suitable  for  the 
cultivation  of  olives. 

Louisiana  exempts  from  license  and  taxation  all  es- 
tablishments employing  not  less  than  five  hands  in  the 
manufacture  of  textile  fabrics,  leather,  shoes,  harness, 
saddlery,  hats,  flour,  machinery,  fertilizers,  and  chem- 
icals, furniture  and  all  articles  of  w^ood,  marble 
and  stone,  soap,  stationery,  ink  and  paper,  boats,  and 
chocolate. 

They  say  in  New  Orleans  that  the  mortality  among 
the  colored  residents  is  so  much  greater  than  among  the 
same  proportion  of  whites  that  the  published  death- 
tables  do  not  fairly  represent  the  character  of  the  city 
as  a  place  of  residence  for  the  last-named  race.  I  cut 
from  the  Picayune  the  death-table  for  the  second  week 
in  March,  1892,  and  found  that  the  deaths  among  the 
w^hites  numbered  Y9,  or  22.33  per  1000  per  annum,  while 
of  negroes  ^^  died,  or  49.55  per  1000  per  annum.     Of 

89 


the  causes,  phthisis  puhnonaHs  and  pneumonia  led  the 
hst. 

The  signal  -  service  records  yield  this  account  of  the 
temperature  of  the  seasons : 


Temperature— deg.  Fahr. 

nfall 

s. 

"« 

1.1. 

Season. 

ga 

S 

cs  a 

IT 

o 

'A 

*i  a 

aSfe 

1" 

Winter. . . 

56 

63 

49 

13.09 

47 

71 

Spring... 

69 

77 

63 

13.67 

53 

70 

Summer.. 

81 

88 

76 

17.97 

54 

73 

Autumn.. 

70 

76 

62 

11.94 

58 

72 

90 


Ill 

ALONG   THE   BAYOU   TECHE 

Mr.  Horace  Fletcher,  of  E"ew  Orleans,  has  an  irre- 
sistible way,  which  perhaps  he  caught  from  the  general 
irresistibleness  of  all  New  Orleans,  though  it  is  more 
likely  that  it  was  born  with  him  in  Massachusetts.  At 
all  events,  when  he  said  to  Mr.  Smedley,  the  artist,  and 
myself  that  no  one  could  pretend  to  have  seen  New  Or- 
leans until  he  had  also  seen  the  Teche  or  Acadian  region, 
he  said  it  in  such  a  way  that  it  was  difficult  to  wait 
from  Saturday  until  Tuesday  for  the  steamboat  —  a 
steamboat,  by-the-way,  which  has  its  name  painted  up 
iu  its  cabin,  with  a  stove-pipe  in  front  of  the  letter  ''  c," 
so  that  its  passengers  cannot  help  but  read  the  name 
"Te  —  he,"  and  feel  sure  that  they  are  bound  upon  a 
very  merry  boat,  and  certain  of  a  jolly  time.  The  Teche 
and  her  sister  boats  go  into  the  'Cajun  (xicadian)  coun- 
try in  the  old  way,  the  way  of  befo'  de  wa'  and  befo'  de 
railroads,  taking  a  journey  of  hundreds  of  miles  to  fetch 
them  Avhere  the  cars  go  in  less  than  a  hundred ;  taking 
days  where  the  cars  take  hours. 

The  course  is  by  two  loops  whose  sides  are  nearly 
parallel.  One  is  made  by  going  up  the  Mississippi  until 
the  mouth  of  the  Eed  River  is  reached,  then  down  the 
Atchafalaya  towards  New  Orleans  again,  and  then  up 
the  Teche  away  from  New  Orleans  and  almost  parallel 
with  the  route  up  the  Father  of  Waters.  The  three 
lines  of  waterway  are  so  nearly  beside  one  another  that 

91 


points  upon  them  which  are  actually  close  together  by 
wagon  road  are  great  distances  apart  by  the  boat  jour- 
ney; for  instance,  one  place  which  is  forty -four  miles 
from  another  as  the  crow  flies  is  376  miles  from  it  by 
the  boat  route. 

"  Take  your  roughening  with  you,"  said  the  captain, 
"for  we  do  not  sell  anything  to  drink  on  the  boat." 
Mr.  Fletcher  does  nothing  by  halves,  so  that  along  with 
a  little  "roughening"  he  took  a  case  of  mineral  water, 
a  mule -load  of  bananas  to  be  fried  in  crumbs  by  the 
darky  cooks,  and  the  current  copies  of  IIarper''s  Weekly 
and  of  Puch  and  Life.  We  had  a  dismal,  cold,  rainy 
day  to  start  with,  and  no  ladies  aboard.  The  men 
huddled  around  the  stove  at  the  masculine  end  of  the 
saloon,  and  smoked  and  swapped  stories.  It  was  a  per- 
fect reproduction  of  a  day  in  a  cross-roads  tavern,  such 
as  every  man  who  follows  a  gun  or  a  rod  and  has  been 
storm-stayed  in  the  country  has  experienced.  The  red- 
hot  stove,  the  circle  of  men,  the  wind  scolding  at  the 
windows  and  thrashing  them  with  rain,  the  door  open- 
ing to  allow  some  one  to  be  shot  in  with  a  blast  of 
chilling  air,  like  a  projectile  out  of  a  pneumatic  gun, 
the  weary  and  worn  old  newspapers,  the  gradual  torpor 
that  the  heat  produced  among  the  men  —  nothing  was 
lacking.  In  the  evening,  after  supper,  we  heard  sub- 
dued music  working  a  difficult  way  through  a  stateroom 
door. 

Music !  It  was  inspiration  !  It  was  precisely  what 
was  wanted  to  atone  for  the  beastly  weather  and  the 
imprisonment  in -doors.  I  knocked  on  the  state-room 
door,  and  found  that  the  musician  was  the  mulatto 
"  Texas-tender,"  which  is  to  say  the  man  in  charge  of 
the  rooms  of  the  pilots  and  petty  officers  on  top  of  the 
saloon  roof.  Would  he  stop  hiding  his  melody  under  a 
bushel  and  come  out  and  play  for  us  ?     "  Certainly,  sah, 

92 


^(^rfvvtfjy '»/«« 


"take  your  koughening  with  you,"  said  the  captain 


if  dat  wuz  what  we  wished."  So  he  came  out,  appear- 
ing to  us  with  a  guitar  in  one  hand  and  the  upper  part 
of  his  body  enmeshed  in  a  strange  arrangement  of 
heavy  wire  that  went  around  each  upper  arm  and 
across  his  chest  and  up  to  his  mouth,  where  it  was  solid 
and  black  like  a  gag.  He  looked  as  if  he  was  pinioned 
and  gagged  and  walking  out  to  a  gallows  to  be  hanged 
with  a  guitar  in  his  hand.  Perhaps  that  was  what 
would  happen  to  him  if  he  played  in  a  centre  of  civili- 
zation, but  we  were  resolved  to  be  tolerant,  though 
critical.  He  sat  in  a  chair,  and  lo !  the  "  strange  device  " 
of  wire  proved  to  be  a  patent  concertina-holder,  The 
gag  was  the  concertina.  For  an  hour  he  played  for  us, 
very  much  to  our  satisfaction,  though  there  were  feat- 
ures of  dear  old  "  Annie  Eooney  "  that  we  did  not  rec- 
ognize, and  "  Comrades "  became  a  trifle  quarrelsome 
and  discordant  at  times.  We  asked  the  captain  if  there 
were  no  negroes  in  the  crew  who  could  sing  or  dance. 

"I  don't  know,"  said  he.  "They  are  all  in  the  St. 
Charles  now." 

"The  St.  Charles?" 

"  Oh,"  said  the  captain,  "  you  don't  understand. 
That  is  what  we  call  the  place  where  the  roustabouts 
sleep,  on  the  main-deck  under  the  boilers." 

In  the  morning  the  hght  broke  upon  a  wet  and  de- 
pressing scene.  The  broad  yellow  river,  so  glorious  in 
sunlight,  was  a  hurrying  sheet  of  mud  enclosed  between 
lines  of  dripping  willows  and  mounds  of  wet  Cherokee 
rose-bushes  not  in  bloom.  The  great  reaches  of  the 
levees  more  than  ever  suggested  earth  -  work  fortifica- 
tions against  the  forces  of  Keptune.  The  sky  was  dark 
and  cheerless.  Of  signs  of  population  there  would  be 
none  for  miles,  and  then  w^e  would  see  scores  of  neg-ro 
cabins,  and  close  by  the  usually  white  mansion  of  their 
white  employer.      The  smoke-stacks  of  an  occasional 

94 


sugar  -  refinery  rising  above  the  trees  told  us  that  we 
were  in  the  sugar  country,  but  rice  plantations  were 
plentiful.  ;N"ow  and  then  a  vagabond  house-boat  was 
seen,  nose  up  on  the  bank,  or  drifting  down  with  the 
current.  Usually  the  after -part  of  such  an  ark  was 
covered  over  by  a  projection  of  the  roof  of  the  house, 
and  in  that  shelter  we  nearly  always  discovered  the 
shiftless  proprietor,  fishing  or  mending  his  lines  or 
whittling,  or,  more  often  than  anything  else,  smoking 
and  letting  his  mind  take  a  vacation.  We  heard  much 
that  was  interesting  about  these  and  other  Southern 
craft  from  the  pilots  and  the  captain. 

The  house- boats,  it  appears,  are  a  survival  of  one 
among  many  kinds  of  boats  which  were  very  much 
more  numerous  upon  the  great  river  before  the  era  of 
steam  navigation  than  steamboats  are  now.  Among 
the  earlier  forms  of  boats  were  the  famous  "Kentucky 
flats,"  or  "  broad-horns,"  and  family  boats  of  this  pat- 
tern were  an  early  modification,  of  their  general  plan, 
which  was  that  of  a  strong-hulled  ark,  long  and  narrow, 
and  covered  with  a  curving  roof.  I  have  read  that 
"  family  boats  of  this  description  fitted  up  for  the  descent 
of  families  to  the  lower  country,  were  provided  with  a 
stove,  a  comfortable  apartment,  beds,  and  arrangements 
for  commodious  habitancy,  and  in  them  ladies,  servants, 
cattle,  sheep,  dogs,  and  poultry,  all  floating  on  the  same 
bottom,  and  on  the  roof  the  looms,  ploughs,  spinning- 
wheels,  and  domestic  implements  of  the  family,  were 
carried  down  the  river."  Fulton's  Clermont^  which 
proved  its  usefulness  as  the  first  practicable  adaptation 
of  steam-power  to  water  travel  in  1807,  must  have  been 
quickly  copied  on  the  Mississippi,  for  in  one  list  of  not- 
able passages  up  that  river  I  have  seen  a  note  of  a  trip 
by  a  steamboat  in  1814.  But  long  after  that  the 
barges,  skiffs,  horse-boats,  broad-horns,  and  family  boats 


niust  have  remained  very  numerous.  They  floated  down 
stream  with  the  current,  and  were  pulled  up  again  by 
means  of  wheels  worked  by  horses  or  cattle,  and  by  the 
toilsome  and  slow  processes  known  as  warping  and  bush- 
whacking. A  boat  which  was  warped  up  the  river  kept 
two  row" -boats  ahead  of  her,  carrying  haw^sers,  which 
were  made  fast  to  the  trees  on  the  shore,  and  then 
pulled  in  as  the  bigger  vessels  were  thus  hauled  along. 
When  the  length  of  one  cable  had  been  pulled  in,  the 
other  boat  had  fastened  the  other  cable  far  ahead,  and 
so  the  vessel  "inched"  along  against  the  five-mile  cur- 
rent of  the  stream  a  little  more  quickly  than  a  house 
moves  w^hen  its  owner  has  decided  to  move  it  down  a 
country  road  to  a  distant  cellar  he  has  dug  for  it.  It 
took  a  day  to  go  six  or  eight  miles  by  that  method. 
Smaller  boats  w^ere  propelled  against  the  current  by 
rowing,  sailing,  or  poling  them  along ;  and  when  the 
water  Avas  high  and  overflowed  the  banks,  they  bush- 
whacked up  stream  —  that  is,  they  pulled  the  vessels 
along  by  hauling  on  the  bushes  that  brushed  the  sides 
of  the  craft. 

At  last  came  the  Mississippi  steamboats,  those  queer 
creations  which  seem  to  be  made  by  house-carpenters 
who  have  forgotten  how  to  build  houses,  and  yet  never 
knew  the  ship -joiner's  art.  They  are  huge,  flat  -  bot- 
tomed, frail  houses  floated  on  box-like  hulls,  but  they 
are  as  comfortable  as  the  Southern  barons  demanded 
that  they  should  be  in  the  glorious  days  when  they  rev- 
elled like  kings.  We  cannot  tell  what  sort  of  boats  will 
travel  the  great  river  in  the  surely  coming  day  when  it 
shall  be  all  walled  in  and  kept  in  its  place,  but  it  is  no 
more  likely  that  the  railroads  will  crush  out  passenger 
travel  on  that  majestic  and  interesting  river  than  that 
they  will  upon  the  Thames  or  the  Hudson.  Just  now 
there  is  a  spell  upon  the  traffic.  The  war  interrupted 
G  97 


it,  and  the  people  of  the  Xorth  and  East  must  redis- 
cover the  fact  that  the  journey  from  St.  Paul  or  St. 
Louis  is  one  of  the  greatest  delights  and  wonders  of 
our  continent.  However,  Mississippi  steamboating  has 
stood  still  for  more  than  twenty  years.  The  rocket  of 
its  glory  burst  with  the  famous  Lee  and  Natchez  race 
in  1870.  They  still  talk  of  that  world-famous  brush  in 
the  river  pilot-houses,  and  I  heard  it  referred  to  more 
than  once  during  the  nine  or  ten  days  I  spent  upon  the 
river.  One  of  the  captains  in  that  test  of  speed,  his- 
toric old  Captain  Leathers,  who  commanded  the  Natchez^ 
is  still  in  the  service,  though  he  has  a  son  who  is  a  man 
beyond  the  age  of  thirty,  and  in  command  of  a  boat 
unkindly  named  the  Natchez^  after  the  famous  racer  the 
old  man  captained  years  ago.  The  talk  of  record-break- 
ings and  of  quick  runs  is  all  of  what  we  in  ]N"ew  York 
would  call  long  voyages,  since  these  consume  the  time 
of  ocean  journeys,  and  our  longest  steamboat  trips  are 
to  Albany  and  Fall  River,  and  are  accomplished  in  a 
night. 

The  quickest  run  from  New  Orleans  to  Cincinnati, 
made  by  the  R.  E.  Sjpringei"  in  1881,  was  done  in  5 
days,  12  hours,  and  45  minutes.  The  fastest  time  over 
the  course  of  1013  miles  from  the  Crescent  City  to 
Cairo,  Illinois,  was  that  made  by  the  B.  E.  Lee  in  1870, 
in  3  days  and  61  minutes,  and  was  therefore  run  at  the 
rate  of  about  14  miles  an  hour  —  against  the  current, 
to  be  sure.  The  Lee^  the  competitor  of  the  Natchez^ 
reached  Natchez,  during  their  memorable  race,  in  16 
hours,  36  minutes,  and  47  seconds,  making  the  distance 
of  272  miles  at  the  speed  of  about  \^\  miles  an  hour. 
The  speed  per  hour  during  the  whole  race  of  1278  miles 
to  St.  Louis  figures  at  about  13^  miles. 

The  race  took  place  in  the  summer  of  1870.  Captain 
Leathers  with  the  Natchez  completed  a  run  to  St.  Louis 

98 


» 


'CAJUNS 


in  3  days,  21  hours,  and  58  minutes,  and  Captain  Can- 
non, of  the  other  and  rival  king-boat  on  the  river,  the 
B.  E.  Lee,  at  once  announced  his  intention  to  beat  her 
on  the  return  trip.  The  Natchez  returned  to  I^ew  Or- 
leans in  due  time,  and  her  captain  found  that  the  Lee 
was  going  to  refuse  all  freight  and  passengers  during 
the  race.  More  than  that,  the  Lee  had  taken  out  all  her 
light  upper  work  that  could  be  removed,  in  order  to 
lessen  her  draught  in  the  Avater.  Captain  Leathers  of 
the  Natchez  affected  not  to  need  such  advantages.  He 
took  aboard  a  small  cargo  of  freight  and  some  passen- 
gers, and  the  two  mighty  packets  were  cast  loose  from 
the  New  Orleans  levee  on  June  30,  1870.  Away  they 
went,  with  their  huge  white  bodies  throbbing  and  their 
trails  of  jet  smoke  curling  behind  them.  The  Lee  made 
no  landings  for  coal.  She  had  engaged  a  tender  to  pre- 
cede her  100  miles  up  the  river  to  give  her  a  supply  of 
whatever  fuel  she  needed.  Farther  along,  flat-boats 
with  wood  and  coal  awaited  her  in  mid-stream.  They 
were  warped  to  her  as  she  slowed  up  alongside  of  them, 
were  emptied  as  she  swept  them  along,  and  then  were 
flung  off  to  drift  where  they  might  after  they  had 
served  their  purpose.  The  Natchez  copied  this  method 
after  a  time. 

The  race  made  a  wonderful  stir.  Boats  loaded  with 
spectators  preceded  and  tried  to  accompany  the  racers 
from  New  Orleans,  and  everywhere  along  the  river  it 
was  said  to  seem  as  if  the  interior  had  been  depopulated, 
so  numerous  were  the  persons  who  crowded  the  shores 
to  look  on.  The  Lee  was  lucky,  and  made  the  trip  in  3 
days,  18  hours,  and  14  minutes,  arriving  in  St.  Louis 
when  thirty  thousand  persons  were  assembled  on  the 
levee  and  on  the  house-tops  to  cheer  her.  The  Natchez 
had  met  with  unusual  detentions  by  fog  and  ground- 
ings.    The  time  of  the  boats  as  they  reached  each  prin- 

100 


cipal  cit}^  on  the  way  was  cabled  to  Europe,  and  it  was 
estimated  that  a  million  of  dollars  was  wagered  on  the 
race. 

Thus,  with  talk  of  the  historic  and  picturesque  past, 
surrounded  by  what  might  be  called  "  the  local  color," 
we  drove  the  wretched  weather  out  of  mind  until  we 
reached  a  watery  corner  and  turned  out  of  the  mighty 
river  into  the  Atchafalaya.  This  we  called  the  "  Chaff- 
erlyer,"  to  be  in  harmony  with  our  acquaintances.  It 
is  fed  out  of  the  Mississippi  where  the  Eed  River  joins 
the  Father  of  AVaters,  and  immediately  that  we  entered 
it  a  new  scene  was  presented  —  a  view  of  a  narrow 
stream  between  groves  which  grow  not  merely  to  the 
water's  edge,  but  into  the  water.  It  does  not  look  like 
any  river  that  we  know  in  the  North ;  it  is  rather  like 
water  running  through  woods,  as  a  flood  might  appear, 
or  a  greatly  swollen  stream.  Suddenly  what  is  called 
the  Grand  pours  into  it,  but  the  Grand  is  merely  a 
wider  belt  of  liquid  mud  flowing  through  a  wilderness. 
ISText  the  land  begins  to  rise,  higher  banks  are  formed, 
and  with  these  come  views  of  cottages,  freight-houses, 
ruins  of  old  brick -sugar-mills,  fishermen's  tents,  negro 
cabins,  bits  of  greensward,  banks  of  rose-bushes,  and 
patches  of  cultivated  farm  land.  Our  first  stop  was  at 
a  honey  plantation,  where  the  half-acre  lot  filled  with 
beehives,  novel  as  the  sight  proved,  was  not  as  peculiar 
as  the  honey-planter  himself.  He  is  famous  up  and 
down  the  Teche  route  as  a  man  Avho  so  loves  to  argue 
that  nothing  can  possibly  happen  which  will  not  arouse 
his  instinct  for  debate.  He  has  some  little  learning, 
and  even  in  his  worn  old  suit  of  homespun  suggested 
traces  of  gentle  blood  and  breeding  as  he  stood  on  the 
river-bank  flinging  long  sentences  and  uncommon  words 
up  at  our  captain  on  the  main-deck,  while  his  daughter, 
the  only  other  white  person  for  miles  around,  leaned  her 

101 


spare  form  against  the  side  of  the  cabin  doorway,  and 
smiled  with  affectionate  pride  as  she  reflected  upon  the 
good  time  her  father  was  having  with  his  vocal  organs. 
Something  which  had  been  ordered  by  him  from  New 
Orleans  had  not  come,  and  he  was  begging  leave  to 
differ  with  the  captain,  no  matter  how  the  captain  sought 
to  account  for  the  delay.  I  think  I  remember  that  the 
sum  of  this  man's  income  each  year  was  computed  at 
five  hundred  dollars,  which  proved,  it  seemed,  that  he 
was  in  very  comfortable  circumstances,  could  well  afford 
to  go  to  New  Orleans  twice  a  year,  and  Avas  able  to 
support  the  position  of  a  man  of  consequence  in  that 
region. 

Presently  we  saw  our  first  Acadians — nowhere  spoken 
of  in  their  own  country  otherwise  than  as  'Cajuns.  The 
first  one  on  the  route  keeps  a  lo,w  gin-mill,  a  resort  for 
bad  characters.  The  next  one  we  saw"  was  a  swarthy, 
stalwart  man  with  a  goatee  d  la  Napoleon  III.,  who  was 
catching  bait  with  a  net.  Moss  hangs  from  the  cypress 
and  oaks  in  great  and  sad  profusion  in  this  part  of  the 
route.  The  wilderness  is  only  occasionally  broken  by  a 
clearing,  and  after  each  interruption  it  seems  to  snap 
shut  again  as  if  not  even  man  could  overcome  the  force 
of  the  rank  growth  of  vegetation,  except  here  and  there, 
and  for  a  mere  geographical  instant.  There  was  a  f azz 
of  disappointingly  small  scrub  palmettoes  on  the  ground, 
and  wherever  there  was  a  cabin  or  a  man  there  was  also 
a  dugout  canoe  or  pirogue.  These  boats  were  not  such 
as  men  have  made  in  almost  every  known  part  of  the 
world  by  merely  scooping  out  the  heart  of  a  log  and 
fashioning  its  ends.  They  vrere  the  hghtest  and  pret- 
tiest boats  of  the  kind  I  ever  saw,  mere  shells  or  dishes, 
very  skilfully  and  gracefully  modelled,  but  so  shallow  as 
to  be  likened  to  nothing  so  closely  as  to  half  a  pea-pod. 
Bait- catching  was  the  business  carried  on  with  them. 

102 


The  men  were  after  shrimp,  but  very  often  caught  craw- 
fish, those  relentless  allies  of  the  Mississippi  Kiver  which 
eat  into  the  levees  and  let  the  river  through  behind 
them.  They  are  a  tenth  the  size  of  lobsters,  and  look 
like  lobsters  "  out  of  drawing,"  as  the  artists  would  say 
— that  is,  they  appear  disproportioned,  with  their  tails 
too  small  for  their  bodies.  They  are  red  and  greenish- 
red,  but  some  are  as  rosy  as  one  of  the  old  masters  is 
said  to  have  painted  lob- 
sters in  the  sea  after  he  ^^^^ 
had  become  acquainted 
with  them  on  the  dinner- 
table.  They  have  blue  lob- 
ster eyes  and  fierce  claws. 

In  time  w^e  came  to  the 
mouth  of  a  bayou  which 
was  closed  during  the  war, 
but  which,  were  it  opened, 
would  take  us  to  Plaque- 
mine,  twenty- five  miles 
across  a  country  around 
which  we  had  gone  190 
miles  to  get  where  we 
were.  Farther  on  we 
came  to  the  openings  into  ^ 

two  or  three  other  bayous, 

and  thus  gradually  were  brought  to  realize  that  this 
region  of  the  mouths  of  the  Mississippi  is  a  land 
that  is  nine -tenths  covered  with  water.  Travellers  by 
the  cars  do  not  comprehend  the  character  of  Louisiana, 
or  see,  with  anything  like  the  view  of  a  steamboat 
passenger,  with  what  profusion  the  surface  of  the  earth 
is  littered  with  bayous,  branches,  canals,  ditches,  lakes, 
and  swamps.  Lake  Chico  was  a  notable  incident  of 
this  second  day's  progress.     It  is  merely  a  swelling 

103 


\\^'\i\iPuu  fl  4.  ■X'>'XmJ*oc^. 


of  the  Atchafalaya  or  Grand  into  a  sheet  of  yellow 
water  thirty  miles  long  and  twelve  miles  wide.  It  is 
picturesque!}^  littered  with  snags  and  floating  logs  and 
channel  stakes.  The  narrow  entrance  to  it,  where 
wooded  promontories  all  but  block  the  wa}'',  is  much 
admired  by  persons  afflicted  with  the  fever  for  kodaking 
everything  out-of-doors.  The  Spanish-moss  is  so  abun- 
dant there  that  if  I  were  a  sufferer  from  the  epidemic  I 
would  have  been  tempted  to  photograph  some  of  the 
trees  that  carried  the  greatest  burdens  of  the  weed,  and 
looked  as  if  they  had  been  washing  out  their  worn  and 
faded  winter  garments  and  were  hanging  them  up  to 
dry.  But  a  far  better  picture  would  be  one  that  showed 
how  we  felt  our  way  into  the  lake,  being  so  uncertain 
whether  there  was  sufficient  water  that  we  wedded  our 
steamboat  to  a  great  scow  with  ropes,  gave  our  spouse 
the  task  of  carrying  a  good  part  of  our  load  of  freight, 
and  sent  a  mate  ahead  of  us  in  a  small  boat  to  prod  the 
mud  with  a  pole.  Whatever  the  mate  discovered  he 
discreetly  kept  to  himself ;  but  we,  not  to  be  retarded 
by  his  reticence,  posted  a  darky  on  the  upper  deck 
with  a  soundino--line  to  chant  in  the  musical  linffo 
of  the  Southern  pilots  the  varying  but  always  very 
small  distance  between  our  keel  and  the  muddy  lake 
bottom. 

Our  first  notable  stop  occurred  a  little  after  dusk,  at 
Pattersonville,  where  we  went  ashore  for  a  cake  of 
shaving-soap,  and  saw  vaguely  by  the  yellow  light  of  a 
few  scattered  kerosene  lamps  that  we  were  the  only 
souls  adrift  in  a  long  wide  street,  which  boasted  here  and 
there  a  dwelling  and  here  and  there  a  neglected  shop. 
We  asked  for  the  soap  in  one  store,  and  the  clerk  treat- 
ed us  to  a  Southern  expression  that  we  had  not  yet 
heard  upon  its  native  soil.  "  I'm  sorry,  sah,"  said  he, 
-"  but  I've  done  run  plumb  out  of  it."     We  added  that 

104 


to  our  notes.  We  had  grown  quite  used  to  hearing  size 
and  distance  expressed  with  the  phrases, "  A  right  smart 
of  a  plantation,"  "  a  smart  distance,"  or  "  a  right  smart 
hotel " ;  also  to  hearing  every  one  say,  "  Where  is  he 
at  now  ?"  and  "  I  dun'no'  where  I  left  my  hat  at." 
When  night  fell,  thick  and  black,  our  two  powerful 
electric  search-lights  were  utilized  with  weird  and  the- 


\      a 


\     \ 


FELLOW-PASSENGERS 


atrical  effect  to  throw^  great  shafts  of  daylight  at  av hich- 
ever  bank  we  w^ere  searching  for  a  landing.  Each  light 
cut  a  well-defined  path  through  the  night,  and  w^hen  it 
picked  out  a  grove  of  trees  or  a  clutter  of  negro  cabins 
or  a  landing,  it  created  a  veritable  stage-picture.  These 
lamps  bothered  the  pilots  so  much  in  steering  their  way 
through  the  w^ater  that  they  w^ere  only  lighted  for  view- 
ing the  bai)k,  and  for  helping  the  roustabouts  to  see 
while  loading  and  unloading  the  cargo.  The  pilots  so 
quickly  shut  off  the  light  Avhen  they  had  nothing  to  do 

105 


but  to  pick  out  an  uncertain  course,  through  water  and 
air  that  were  equally  black,  that  they  seemed  to  me  like 
Avater-cats  that  could  see  very  well  in  their  element,  but 
were  helpless  upon  land. 

In  the  morning,  after  many  hours  spent  in  throwing 
spectacular  landings  on  the  blank  wall  of  night,  and 
then  carrying  freight  out  to  them,  and  wiping  them  out 
of  existence  by  turning  oif  our  lights,  we  awoke  to  find 
the  Atchafalaya  basking  in  the  sun  and  in  quite  another 
country.  We  had  travelled  from  the  swamps  and  cy- 
press brakes  of  Louisiana  to  something  like  the  Thames 
in  England — to  a  pastoral  country  watered  by  a  narrow, 
pretty  river  of  clear  water  that  loafed  along  between 
patches  of  greensward,  rows  of  oaks,  white  manor- 
houses,  cabins  set  among  roses,  magnolias,  and  jasmines, 
and  with  great  clearings,  and  men  at  work  ploughing 
on  either  side.  White  bridges  that  invariably  broke 
apart  as  the  boat  approached  them,  and  that  were  often 
set  upon  pontoons,  still  further  domesticated  and  civil- 
ized the  scenery.  Every  plantation  had  a  bridge  for 
itself,  it  seemed.  It  was  a  little  jarring  to  have  a  man 
come  aboard  with  two  rattlesnake  -  skins,  each  large 
enough  to  make  into  two  pairs  of  Chicago  slippers ; 
five  inches  wide  and  a  yard  in  length  the  skins  were. 
We  had  pointed  out  to  us  the  Calumet  Plantation, 
which  is  said  to  be  the  most  orderly  and  completely 
appointed  sugar  farm  in  Louisiana.  The  rows  of  white- 
washed negro  cabins  were  formed  of  houses  better  than 
the  'Cajun  houses  we  had  been  seeing. 

Daniel  Thompson  is  the  planter  here,  and  his  son,  Mr. 
Wibrey  Thompson,  came  aboard  and  talked  very  inter- 
estingly of  the  experiments  he  and  his  father  are  mak- 
ing in  the  analyses  of  many  sorts  of  cane,  the  breeding 
of  the  best  varieties,  the  perfecting  of  refining  processes, 
and  the  broadcast  publication  of  the  results  of  the  work 

106 


in  the  laboratories,  where  as  many  as  three  chemists 
are  sometimes  at  work  together.  Such  men  are  the  rep- 
resentatives of  the  new  type  of  farmers  who  are  numer- 
ous in  the  West  and  who  are  multiplying  in  the  South. 
They  do  not  farm  by  prayer,  or  take  land  on  shares 
with  luck  or  nature,  after  the  old  plan.  Chemistry  is 
their  handmaiden,  and  she  rules  in  the  place  of  chance. 
One  whom  I  knew  went  to  Germany  and  France  to 
study  the  beet  -  sugar  industry  there  before  he  bought 
his  ranch  in  Kansas,  and  he  mastered  French  and  Ger- 
man so  that  he  could  read  all  that  is  known  of  the 
industry.  Others  learn  chemistr\^  or  employ  chemists 
to  analyze  everything  they  d.eal  with.  These  new- 
school  farmers  pubhsh  all  that  they  learn ;  they  write 
reports  for  the  government  to  pubhsh,  and  they  lecture 
to  farmer  audiences  in  the  winter,  in  which  season,  by-the- 
way,  they  are  generally  as  busy  as  the  old  -  time  luck 
farmers  used  to  be  idle.  They  keep  the  most  minute 
accounts  of  outlay  and  income,  crediting  the  refuse  they 
burn  to  the  fuel  account,  the  stuff  cattle  eat  to  the  sav- 
ing of  fodder,  offsetting  their  earnings  with  their  fixed 
charges,  wear  and  tear  of  machinery,  interest  on  the 
principal  invested,  and,  in  short,  tabulating  everything. 
These  are  mainly  Eastern  and  Northern  men,  but  the 
new  generation  of  Southerners  is  not  without  represen- 
tation in  the  scientific  class.  We  shall  find,  before 
we  leave  the  Teche  country,  that  there  are  great  dis- 
tricts wherein  every  plantation  is  owned  by  Northern 
or  Eastern  men.  The  cultivation  of  semi-tropical  fruits 
has  been  a  failure  in  Florida  because  the  land  there  was 
taken  haphazard  by  men  who  are  trying  to  farm  with 
Providence  and  dumb  luck  for  partners.  Agriculture 
there  was  based  on  the  theory  that  if  an  invalid  who 
could  not  endure  Northern  winters  had  money  to  buy 
land  he  could  grow  oranges  in  white  sand.     The  new 

108 


school  of  scientific,  take-nothing-for-granted  farming  is 
already  taking  root  there,  and  will  in  time  make  more 
money  out  of  oranges  than  dumb  luck  has  sunk  in  plant- 
ing them  where  they  did  not  belong. 

Mr.  Wibrey  Thompson,  while  he  was  aboard  the 
Teche,  said  that  he  w^as  convinced  that  the  future 
source  of  sugar  will  be  sorghum.  It  may  not  be  in  his 
time,  he  says,  nor  in  five  hundred  years,  but  the  fact 
that  he  has  demonstrated  that  it  is  the  most  practicable 
product  and  economical  cane,  and  that  it  yields  most 
readily  to  the  processes  of  selection,  satisfies  him  that 
the  world  will  in  time  turn  to  it  for  its  sugar  supply. 
Sorghum  in  the  rough  yields  twelve  per  cent,  of  sugar, 
the  same  as  sugar-cane,  but  in  three  years,  by  choosing 
the  best  cane  and  "  breeding  it,"  he  raised  the  yield  to 
twenty  and  a  half  per  cent.  He  is  certain  he  can  plant 
it  and  get  fourteen  per  cent,  off-hand  from  a  whole 
crop,  and  in  a  short  time  can  get  sixteen  per  cent.  Po- 
tentiall}^  or  technically,  sorghum  is  now  in  the  best 
position  it  has  ever  held  yet ;  actually,  it  is  bankrupt 
and  dead.  This  year  only  one  concern  in  the  country 
will  make  sorghum  sugar.  The  reason  for  this  is  that 
it  has  always  been  grown  from  poor  seed.  It  has  not 
been  bred  or  studied,  and  people  have  not  known  how 
to  rid  the  juice  of  its  impurities.  All  this  is  overcome, 
and  it  is  seen  to  be  the  best  producer ;  but  in  the  mean 
time  the  sorghum  farmers  have  lost  money,  and,  worse 
yet,  have  lost  their  faith  in  the  cane. 

Farther  along,  from  the  boat's  deck  we  saw  Acadian 
men  and  women  gathering  Spanish-moss  from  the  trees. 
Our  first  sight  of  this  peculiar  Louisiana  industry  was 
of  a  'Cajun  man  high  up  in  an  oak-tree,  half  hid  in  a 
mass  of  waving  gray  moss.  How  he  got  into  it  we  did 
not  see,  but  now  he  was  tearing  his  way  out  of  it,  cut- 
ting and  ripping  it,  and  tossing  it  down  upon  the  river- 

109 


bank,  where  it  lay  in  soft,  rounding  mounds,  as  the 
clouds  of  the  sky  might  do  if  they  were  treated  in  the 
same  violent  way.  This  moss  is  sold  in  New  Orleans, 
where  it  is  so  highly  prized  for  stuffing  mattresses  that 
they  say  nothing  in  the  bed  line  can  equal  one  that  is 
made  of  a  moss  mattress  and  a  hair  mattress  on  top  of 
a  wire-spring  mattress.  Such  a  bed,  I  was  told,  would 
even  satisfy  the  princess  in  Andersen's  tale  who  was 
bruised  black  and  blue  by  the  three  pease  the  peasant 
woman  put  under  the  mattresses  in  order  to  discover 
whether  she  really  was  a  princess.  The  moss-gatherers 
of  Louisiana  heap  the  soft  fibrous  stuff  upon  the  ground, 
pour  water  upon  it,  and  leave  to  nature  the  task  of  rot- 
ting it  into  a  black  dry  mass. 

This  moss,  which  is  found  as  far  north  as  Asbury 
Park  on  the  Atlantic  coast,  is  a  very  peculiar  growth. 
It  is  said  not  to  be  a  parasite  and  not  to  live  upon 
anything  it  gets  from  the  trees.  It  is  believed  in  most 
parts  of  the  South  that  it  rids  the  atmosphere  of  mala- 
rial poison,  and  where  it  grows  the  people  boast  that 
fevers  and  chills  are  as  rare  as  in  the  mountains.  The 
weight  of  testimony  favors  this  theory,  but  frankness 
compels  me  to  add  that  in  Florida  the  tourist  will  read 
in  the  circular  of  one  hotel  that  the  presence  of  Spanish- 
moss  ^'  attests  the  healthf  ulness  of  the  climate,"  while  at 
another  hotel  he  will  be  told  that  the  peculiar  merit  of 
that  locality  lies  in  the  fact  that  Spanish-moss  does  not 
grow  there.  This  moss,  so  green  and  littered  with 
pinkish  blossoms  when  in  its  prime,  dies  on  a  dead  tree 
when  the  bark  fails  to  hold  it,  and  then  it  becomes  the 
color  of  cigar  ashes.  Patient  study  of  a  mass  of  it  will, 
it  is  said,  show  no  root,  beginning,  or  end  to  it,  and  any 
piece  of  it  which  is  blown  from  one  live-oak  to  another 
may  take  hold  and  breed  a  bedtick  filling  of  it. 

We  entered  the  Bayou  Teche  on  a  glorious  day,  and 

110 


thought  it  part  of  a  drowsy,  dreamy,  gentle,  semi-tropic 
scene.  It  runs  through  the  heart  of  a  broad  savanna. 
Afar  off,  on  either  side,  we  saw  the  forests  of  the 
neglected  South  that  has  so  long  awaited  the  now  ap- 
proaching multitude  from  Europe,  but  the  land  beside 
the  bayou  was  every  acre  cultivated  or  built  upon.  We 
could  not  have  found  ourselves  amid  stranger  scenes 
had  we  gone  to  the  French  part  of  Canada  or  to  Eng- 
land or  France.  Often  there  was  an  edging  of  reeds  or 
a  grove  of  oaks  that  w^ould  have  resembled  an  old  or- 
chard of  the  North  but  for  the  abundance  of  the  fune- 
real moss  that  bearded  every  limb.  Then  we  passed 
villages  with  funny  little  Grecian  -  looking  stores  and 
banks  and  court  -  houses,  all  pillared  and  with  pointed 
roofs.  Then  there  were  splendid  planters'  homes,  white 
and  neat,  with  rows  of  Corinthian  columns  in  front  and 
a  brigade  of  whitewashed  negro  cabins  in  dependent 
nearness,  as  little  chickens  cluster  near  the  mother-hen. 
There  were  pretty  white  bridges  here  and  there,  as 
ornamental  amid  the  greenery  as  statues  on  a  lawn. 
On  these  the  "quality  folks"  always  gathered  to  see 
the  boat,  apart  from  the  colored  folks,  who  huddled 
upon  the  shore  in  barbaric  colors,  every  wench  wearing 
something  red,  and  chewing  tobacco  or  snuff,  and  all 
giggling  and  skylarking  like  the  children  that  they  re- 
main until  they  die.  Two  sets  of  sugar -houses  were 
the  great  monuments  of  the  industry  of  the  region,  the 
old  more  or  less  ruined  refineries  of  ante -helium  days, 
and  the  unpicturesque  but  practical  factories  of  to-day. 

When  the  boat  stopped,  as  it  did  with  the  frequency 
of  a  milk  -  cart  on  a  busy  route,  we  were  taken  to  a 
country  club,  sometimes,  and  the  bar-tender  was  form- 
ally introduced  as  Mr.  Eelden  or  Mr.  Labiche,  where- 
upon everybody  "  passed  the  time  of  day"  with  him,  as 
the  Irish  put  it,  before  ordering  the  toddy.      In  one 

112 


town  there  had  been  a  ripple  of  excitement  that  had 
not  quieted  when  we  landed  there.  An  insult  had  been 
offered  to  a  prominent  old  citizen,  "  w^ho  was  as  brave 
as  a  lion,"  by  a  young  man  whose  courage  was  not  ques- 
tioned. Seconds  were  appointed,  and  they  found  that 
the  young  man  had  made  a  mistake  and  ought  to 
apologize. 

'•  We  have  reached  a  stage  of  civilization  where  a  duel 
would  be  impossible,"  said  a  citizen  who  was  discussing 
the  affair.  Then  he  added,  *'This  would  have  been 
peculiarly  distressing,  as  there  are  at  least  ten  friends  of 
the  old  gentleman  armed  and  awaiting  the  outcome  of 
.the  deliberations,  while  the  younger  man  has  at  least 
six  frienlis  who  have  their  rifles  in  readiness." 

The  kind  of  hospitality  that  obtained  along  the  bayou 
was  simply  astonishing  to  a  Northern  man.  We  were 
becro^ed  to  leave  the  boat  and  visit  the  homes  of  friends 
of  five  minutes,  to  stay  a  w^eek  or  till  the  next  boat ;  in 
one  case,  to  take  a  month  of  fishing  and  hunting.  Often 
when  we  tore  away  from  these  kindly  persons  thev 
followed  us  up  ^vith  bundles  of  cigars  and  bottles  of 
good  cheer.  To  have  doubted  their  sincerity  would 
have  been  like  doubting  the  cause  of  daylight,  and  yet, 
like  that  phenomenon,  it  was  almost  past  comprehen- 
sion. Ah !  but  it  was  also  a  land  of  pathos  and  trag- 
edy. The  wounds  made  by  the  war  may  almost  be  said 
to  bleed  yet.  The  clerk  of  our  boat  never  made  a  trip 
without  stopping  at  the  noble  plantation  that  his  father 
owned  and  lost ;  the  mate  on  every  voyage  sees  the 
great  acres  that  his  parents  w^ere  obliged  to  surrender. 
Everywhere  one  journeys  in  the  South  such  are  the 
sights ;  every  time  men  talk  (I  had  almost  said)  that  is 
what  one  hears.  It  is  not  true  that  the  war  spirit  is 
alive  anywhere  except  in  the  talk  of  politicians,  and 
mainly  of  those  in  the  North,  but  it  is  wonderful  that 

H  113 


it  is  not  true ;  it  is  wonderful  how  the  South  has  ad- 
justed itself  to  its  altered  condition. 

Through  the  broad  and  golden  savanna  we  zigzagged 
all  day,  eating  only  three  meals  in  the  cabin,  yet  seem- 
ing to  be  forever  at  it.  At  close  intervals  everything 
aboard  ship  moved  forward  with  a  lurch,  and  we  knew 
that  the  vessel  had  grounded  her  nose  at  a  landing. 
Down  went  the  great  landing-stage  that  rides  before 
her  like  an  upraised  claw,  and  that  grabs  the  bank  when 
she  stops  as  a  swimmer  might  hold  himself  up  with  one 
hand.  Whenever  the  claw  went  out  to  catch  the  bank 
a  bunch  of  ragged  negroes  scrambled  off,  and  fell  into 
the  reeds  and  bushes,  weighted  down  with  the  boat's 
hawser,  and  stumbling,  slipping,  and  falling  *as  they 
fought  their  way  to  the  trees  or  the  clear  ground.  Hal- 
looing, swearing,  and  crashing  they  made  their  way, 
working,  as  all  negroes  do  (when  they  have  to),  harder 
than  any  other  laborers  in  America.  The  boat  made 
fast,  order  was  resumed,  and  took  the  shape  of  a  roll- 
ing line  of  blacks,  shouldering  bags  and  packages,  and 
shambling  to  and  from  the  shore  as  softly  as  so  many 
animated  bundles  of  rags  naturally  would,  for  they 
were  ragged  from  their  tattered  hats  down  to  their 
gaping,  spreading,  padlike  shoes.  The  length  of  stay 
at  each  place  was  computed  b}^  the  number  of  "  pack- 
ages "  on  the  clerk's  list.  Fifty  meant  no  time  at  all, 
200  indicated  a  chance  to  stretch  one's  legs  on  the  bank, 
and  1000  or  2000  carried  the  opportunity  to  go  to  town 
and  shake  hands  with  the  hearty  folk  in  the  law-offices, 
the  court-houses,  or  the  clubs.  When  the  last  "  pack- 
age " — Avhich  might  be  a  broom  or  a  steam  -  engine — 
was  put  ashore,  the  scramble  of  the  roustabouts  was  re- 
peated. The  line  was  cast  off,  the  claw  began  to  rise 
by  steam-power,  and  the  darkies  rushed  down  the  bank, 
and  hung  on  to  it,  and  climbed  up  at  the  greatest  possi- 

114 


THE   CLERK 


ble  risk  of  being  left,  and  losing  as  many  dollars  or  dol- 
lars and  a  half  as  they  were  days  from  the  city.  No 
officer  of  the  boat  ever  considered  them  at  all. 

These  were  incidents  of  a  day's  travel  along  the  Bayou 
Teche.  Towards  bed-time  we  stopped  at  one  place  where 
the  clerk's  list  of  packages  assured  us  we  might  go  ashore 
and  visit  a  planter  whose  house  was  near  the  bayou. 
The  place  proved  a  typical  old  manor-house,  and  yet 
what  a  change  had  befallen  it !  Instead  of  the  bustling 
household  of  before  the  war — the  queenlike  mistress, 
the  young  ladies  with  Parisian  finish,  the  little  chil- 
dren, the  governess,  the  ever-numerous  guests,  the  troop 
of  servants,  the  bird  and  fox  hounds,  and  the  pleasure- 
loving  Southern  lord — only  one  room  showed  a  light. 
The  rest  of  the  house  was  dark.  We  went  in,  and  found 
a  log  fire  blazing  cheerily  on  an  open  hearth  in  a  bach- 
elor's paradise,  bare-floored,  with  magazines,  pipes,  cigar- 
boxes,  and  newspapers  scattered  all  about,  and  a  general 
tone  of  disorder  and  settled  loneliness.  The  planter  said 
that  his  wife  was  in  Chicago,  where  he  also  spent  much 
of  his  time. 

At  daybreak  we  were  awakened  to  find  the  boat  at 
the  plantation  of  Messrs.  Oxnard  and  Sprague,  new- 
found New  Orleans  friends  who  had  invited  us  to  visit 
them.  Although  it  was  but  daylight,  the  great  colon- 
naded and  galleried  mansion,  as  fine  as  a  lord's  country- 
seat  in  England,  was  the  seat  of  a  welcoming  bustle. 
Breakfast  was  spread  in  the  great  dining-room  upon  a 
snow-white  cloth,  before  a  blazing  log  fire.  Again  the 
proprietors  were  Northerners  and  bachelors,  and  the 
floors  and  walls  were  bare,  Avhile  literature,  guns,  and 
smoking  implements  made  picturesque  disorder. 

I  found  next  day  that  the  plantations  lay  side  by  side 
up  and  down  the  bayou  for  miles,  as  farms  do  along  a 
Jersey  pike,  or  cottages  neighbor  each  other  on  a  village 

116 


road.  Were  they  all  maintained  by  Northern  men  and 
bachelors  ?  The  inquiry  brought  the  response  that  not 
one  of  the  old  Southern  planters  had  managed  to  keep 
his  acres,  and  that  of  the  new  Northern  ones  only  one 
in  that  particular  neighborhood  had  his  wife  with  him. 
Profitable  as  sugar-planting  is,  it  can  only  be  carried  on 
after  a  great  primal  outlay.  A  modern,  well-equipped, 
economical  sugar-house,  with  its  machinery,  costs  at  least 
$300,000,  independent  of  the  cost  of  the  hundreds  and 
perhaps  thousands  of  acres  of  land  bought  at  $40  each, 
at  an  average.  Men  who  have  the  means  to  venture 
upon  such  an  outlay  can  afford  to  live  where  they  will ; 
and,  as  a  rule,  their  homes  are  in  New  Orleans  or  other 
cities,  and  the  old  manor-houses  which  came  with  the 
acres  are  considered  as  mere  conveniences  or  business 
headquarters. 

These  are  the  earnest  and  the  scholarly  latter-day 
planters  of  whom  I  have  spoken — self-instructed  plod- 
ders or  favored  college  graduates  who  have  learned  that 
the  laboratory  of  to-day,  and  the  scientific  reports  and 
periodicals  of  the  age,  are  better  from  a  business  point 
of  view  than  the  wine-cellars  and  French  novels  of  the 
departed  era.  These  new  -  comers  will  make  Louisiana 
rich,  and  America  royal  over  princel}^  nations  of  Chris- 
tendom. But  to  find  these  people  and  this  new  condi- 
tion actually  within  the  walls  of  the  feudal  palaces  of 
slavery  days  sent  a  sentimental  chill  to  my  very  marrow. 
In  Mr.  Sprague's  great  house,  over  and  above  all  the 
kindness  and  hospitality  he  showered  around  him,  and 
stronger  than  the  kindliness  of  his  very  atmosphere,  was 
the  sadness  of  having  the  dead,  assassinated  past  so  per- 
sistently thrust  into  the  mind.  He  will  not  mind  my 
using  his  house  to  point  the  tale  of  the  revolution  in  the 
South,  for  he  knows  that  it  is  a  thing  apart  from  the 
merry  time  he  made  for  me,  and  from  the  friendships 

117 


that  were  engendered  by  his  kindness.  He  must  him- 
self have  felt  that  it  was  strange  to  walk  about  the  great 
wide  halls  and  through  the  immense  high  rooms  of  the 
house,  with  doors  and  windows  a  dozen  feet  high,  and 
with  fireplaces  framed  in  marble,  and  to  think  what 
such  a  mansion  was  intended  for,  of  the  departed  state 
and  pride  of  which  such  a  house  is  the  emptied  cage, 
the  violated  tomb.  Between  rows  of  moss  -  curtained 
oaks  and  great  pecans  was  the  avenue  where  the  horses 
and  carriages  brought  the  gentry  to  the  broad  galleries 
and  broader  halls,  where  they  disported  an  aristocracy 
that  was  not  out  of  place  in  their  days. 

If  the  lower  Atchafalaya  suggested  England,  the 
Teche  country  was  like  Holland,  with  its  extended  flat 
vistas,  far  along  which  the  sky  met  the  plough-tracked, 
water  -  riddled  land.  But  on  high  were  the  Southern 
buzzards,  noisome  to  the  sight  and  to  another  sense,  but 
ever-beautiful  when  on  the  wing.  Apparently  no  South- 
ern view  omits  them.  I  could  almost  say  I  never  looked 
up  in  the  daytime  without  seeing  them  soaring,  with 
the  grace  of  better  birds,  eternally.  The  mules,  the  buz- 
zards, and  the  negroes  broke  the  Hollandish  similitude. 
Near  the  Oxnard-Sprague  house  was  a  street  of  negro 
cabins  in  a  double  row,  from  which  came  the  varied 
sounds  of  jews -harps,  laughter,  and  quarrelling.  The 
cabins  were  of  one  sort  —  the  single  type  all  over  the 
South — one-storied,  often  one-roomed,  and  with  a  rude 
brick  chimney  outside  and  a  gaping  fireplace  within. 
Nearly  all  the  white  folks  who  trudged  along  the  high- 
way were  Acadians,  all  but  hallowed  by  the  magic  of 
Longfellow,  and  it  was  strange  indeed  to  hear  that  Ave 
must  not  call  them  'Cajuns  to  their  faces  lest  they  be 
offended,  that  the  term  is  taken  as  one  of  reproach,  and 
that  the  negro  farm  hands  taken  care  of  on  the  white 
men's  places  look  down  upon  these  people  who  have  to 

118 


take  care  of  themselves,  as  the  darkies  elsewhere  look 
down  upon  "  poor  whites."  Among  the  Acadians  along 
the  Bayou  Teche  are  very  many  who  are  ignorant,  un- 
tidy, and  unambitious,  though  nearly  all  are  saving  of 
what  they  get.  Some  perform  odd  jobs,  as  work  is 
offered  to  them,  and  some  work  the  land  for  those 
planters  Avho  have  more  than  they  can  manage,  and 
wiio  o:uarantee  a  certain  sum  which  leaves  a  maro^in 
of  profit  for  the  crops  they  are  able  to  raise.  We 
saw  some  rather  pretty  Acadian  girls,  dark-skinned,  and 
just  missmg  beauty  because  of  the  heaviness  of  their 
faces,  and  we  asked  them  where  we  could  find  a  certain 
group  of  Choctaw  Indians'  houses  where  we  might  buy 
Indian  basket-work.  They  did  not  understand  us  at  all 
until  I  bethought  me  that  Indians  w^ere  sauvages  to  the 
French  mind.  I  tried  the  girls  with  that  word,  and 
they  brightened  up  and  led  us  to  the  Indian  cabins, 
which  were  in  no  wise  different,  exteriorly,  from  the 
near-by  homes  of  the  girls  themselves. 

The  last  of  the  Acadians  to  reach  this  new  home  of 
theirs  came  onlya  Httle  more  than  a  century  ago;  yet  they 
were  onl}^  a  thousand  strong  then,  while  now  they  num- 
ber forty  thousand.  Whether  any  of  their  "  Evangelmes  " 
wedded  Choctaw  bucks  I  do  not  know,  but  a  sufficient 
number  of  the  French  Kova-Scotians  married  Indian 
squaws  to  lend  the  Acadian  faces  of  to-day  a  strong 
trace  of  kinship  with  the  people  they  call  savages.  Tet 
I  never,  outside  of  British  Columbia,  saw  Indians  so 
uncouth  as  were  many  of  the  swarthy  yet  kindly  and 
simple  exiles  from  Grand  Pre,  who  here  have  found  a 
drowsy,  luxuriant,  flowery,  and  sunny  land  just  suited 
to  their  natures. 

I  spent  twenty -four  hours  on  the  plantation,  and 
every  wakeful  hour  brought  a  new  delight,  found  some- 
times in  the  great  bare  house,  sometimes  in  the  fields, 

120 


and  sometimes  in  the  near-by  village.  There  was  no 
unfriendliness  towards  the  new-comers  that  I  could  see ; 
indeed,  in  the  village  there  were  only  a  few  cottages 
half  buried  amid  flowers  along  a  bowery  perfumed 
road,  a  somnolent  shop  or  two,  a  lazyman's  hotel,  and 
two  restful-looking  churches.  To  turn  from  that  slow- 
going,  placid  settlement,  moss-grown  like  its  trees,  to 
the  huge  pulsating  refineries  of  the  invaders  was  to  be 
reminded  of  a  sudden  change  in  a  disordered  dream. 

Yet  just  such  companions  as  these  two  forces  are 
found  throughout  the  region.  Thus  the  new  South 
works  side  by  side  with  the  old  one,  the  one  vigor- 
ous and  promising,  the  other  placid,  picturesque,  and 
doomed. 

121 


TV 

m  SUNNY  MISSISSIPPI 

"We  say  we  like  London  because  of  its  historic  asso- 
ciations and  haunts,  and  we  think  of  them  so  often  that 
we  come  to  regard  our  country  as  lacking  the  things 
which  awaken  reverent  emotion.  A  mere  tomb  in  an 
English  graveyard,  or  a  lettered  slab  in  the  pavement 
of  one  of  the  Inns  of  Court,  sends  us  back  a  century  or 
two  as  we  ponder  what  some  poet  did  and  how  he  lived 
and  what  were  his  surroundings.  And  yet  the  senti- 
mental mind  may  find  plenty  of  this  sort  of  delight 
here  in  America — delight  that  should  be  extreme  to  an 
American.  I  thought  of  that  in  Kichmond  when  I  saw 
the  portrait  of  poor  Pocahontas  in  the  Capitol,  close  to 
that  of  Light-horse  Harry  Lee  and  to  those  of  some  of 
the  famous  royal  Governors.  And  I  thought  of  how 
there  Avas  a  Virginia  known  to  Shakespeare,  as  well  as 
a  "  vexed  Bermoothes."  And  so  it  was  again  w^hen  I 
found  myself  in  Charleston,  with  its  museum  of  ante- 
Eevolutionary  buildings,  and  its  French  traces  that 
point  back  to  the  earliest  Protestant  settlement  within 
our  national  borders.  In  New  Orleans,  again,  a  wealth 
of  romantic  and  picturesque  and  gayly  colored  remind- 
ers of  shifting  dynasties  and  exciting  history  beats  in 
upon  my  mind.  Finally  I  came  to  Mississippi,  and  at 
Biloxi  stood  upon  the  ground  whereon  M.  d'Iberville 
planted  the  flag  of  his  royal  master  of  France  in  1699, 
nearly  200  years  ago,  but  157  years  after  De  Soto  sailed 

122 


the  Father  of  Waters  that  fronts  that  same  State.  Ah  !  I 
can  be  very  happy  indeed  when  I  find  myself  in  Carlyle's 
favorite  tobacconist's  in  Chelsea  by  the  Cheyne  Walk, 
but  I  can  command  a  more  brilliant  panorama,  and  one 
that  moves  as  directly  towards  my  own  proud  citizen- 
ship, when  I  pursue  the  same  bent  of  mind  in  my  own 
country. 

To  Biloxi  one  goes  to  get  sick  in  order  to  be  happy. 
That  is  one  of  the  peculiar  charms  of  the  entire  Gulf 
coast  of  the  State  of  Mississippi.  Surely  as  you  go  there 
you  will  fall  ill  of  the  local  distemper,  and  that  is  one 
of  the  main  incentives  for  making  the  journey.  When 
I  was  in  Chattanooga,  not  long  ago,  the  cream  of  the 
gentry  were  ill  and  contented  by  reason  of  an  enforced 
command  for  general  vaccination  to  ward  off  a  threat 
of  small-pox  which  never  materialized.  But  down  at 
Biloxi  and  Pass  Christian  (pronounced  chris-chan)  and 
Ocean  Springs  and  those  other  bits  of  dreamland  on  the 
Mississippi  coast  nobody  gets  sick  in  order  not  to  be 
sicker.  No  one  down  there  takes  the  local  illness  in 
preference  to  some  other  disorder.  In  that  peculiar 
region  every  one  becomes  invalided  as  badly  as  possible 
solely  for  the  love  of  the  malady. 

I  first  heard  of  it  in  a  barber's  shop.  A  man  came 
along,  and  the  barber  hailed  him.  "  When  are  you  go- 
ing to  come  and  get  my  hot- water  apparatus  and  mend 
the  leak  in  it  ?"  he  asked.     "  Can  you  take  it  now  f 

"  No,"  said  the  mechanic.  "  I'll  call  around  very 
soon.  I  was  going  to  come  and  get  it  a  couple  of 
weeks  ago ;  and  then,  again,  I  was  pretty  near  coming 
for  it  the  week  before  that.  I'll  get  around.  Y'ain't 
in  no  hurry,  are  you  f 

"  Oh,  well — er — not  a  reg'lar  hurry,"  said  the  barber. 
"  I'd  be  using  the  thing  every  day  if  it  was  in  order. 
But  I'll  get  along  all  right." 

123 


I  was  in  a  holiday  resort,  and  this  was  certainly  a 
holiday  spirit  which  both  men  were  displaying,  and  yet 
it  seemed  that  both  were  rather  too  slow  even  for  a 
holiday  couple. 

"How  does  that  fellow  make  a  living?"  I  asked. 

"Oh,  he's  a  Creole,"  said  the  barber.  "He  don't  re- 
quire much  for  a  living.  A  cigarette  and  a  glass  of 
water  makes  a  Creole  breakfast,  you  know,  and  down 
in  this  country  you  give  any  young  fellow  a  dugout 
and  a  cast-net  and  he's  able  to  marry." 

After  a  pause  the  barber  said,  proudly,  "  Oh,  we've 
all  got  the  Biloxi  fever." 

"  What  sort  of  a  fever  is  that  ?" 

"  You'll  find  out  when  you  have  been  here  awhile. 
How  long  have  3^ou  been  here  ?" 

"About  two  hours,"  said  I. 

"  Well,"  said  the  barber,  "  you'll  have  it  bad  to-mor- 
row— that  is,  it  will  seem  bad  at  first,  though  really  it 
gets  worse  and  worse  the  longer  you  stay.  Why,  the 
natives  have  it  so  that  there's  dozens  of  girls  here  who 
are  becoming  old  maids  because  it  is  too  much  of  an 
effort  for  their  beaux  to  propose  to  'em." 

The  fever  seized  me  at  eleven  o'clock  of  the  next 
forenoon,  as  with  my  friend  Mr.  Fletcher,  of  New 
Orleans,  I  was  pursuing  the  truly  Northern  custom  of 
"  taking  a  walk."  Before  half  a  mile  had  been  trav- 
ersed a  store  porch  appeared  before  us  and  impeded 
our  progress.  It  is  true  that  it  was  on  one  side  of  the 
thoroughfare,  and  the  way  past  it  was  broad  and  level. 
But  it  was  a  demon  porch — a  thing  with  the  soul  if  not 
the  song  of  a  siren.  In  the  sunlight  it  seemed  to  smile 
on  us  seductively,  and  it  spread  its  two  side-posts  like  a 
welcoming  lover's  arms,  while  its  clean  warm  floor  ap- 
peared to  advance  and  insinuate  itself  under  us,  so  that, 
without  knowing  how  or  w^hy  it  was,  we  found  our- 

124 


GROTTO   AT   BILOXI 


selves  seated  there,  stricken  with  the  fever  and  at  ease. 
One  must  catch  the  complaint  to  appreciate  it.  It  is 
not  fatal  any  more  than  Nirvana  is,  and  in  my  practical 
Occidental  way  of  thinking  it  is  very  like  Nirvana,  and 
better,  because  it  has  the  advantage  of  leaving  you  on 
earth,  and  with  the  same  enjoyment  of  food  and  flowers 
and  wine  and  song  that  you  had  before.  It  is  not  laziness. 
None  but  a  dull  hind  would  call  it  that.  It  is  the  very 
thing  that  the  Europeans  who  criticise  us  for  our  fever 

125 


of  unrest  should  recommend  as  a  substitute,  for  it  is  a 
fever  for  rest.  A  mere  doctor  would  describe  it  as  a 
malady  peculiar  to  the  Gulf  coast  from  Mobile  to  New 
Orleans.  He  would  say  that  it  has  been  observed  that 
large  numbers  of  men  and  women,  by  combining  in 
large  cities,  are  able  to  exercise  sufficient  will  power 
to  ward  it  off,  so  that  it  is  prevalent  in  Mobile  and 
]S"ew  Orleans  only  among  the  colored  people.  Then 
he  would  go  on  to  say  that  its  first  symptoms  are  a 
stiffening  of  the  motor  muscles  of  the  legs,  followed 
by  a  sense  of  leaden  heaviness  in  the  patient's  feet. 
The  patient  will  be  observed  to  talk  rationally,  and  to 
sustain  an  ordinary  light  conversation,  but  will  on  no 
account  move  from  a  chair,  except  it  be  to  drop  into  the 
next  one  he  comes  to. 

In  the  absence  of  chairs  the  patients  are  observed  to 
sit  upon  barrels,  boxes,  store  porches,  and  door- steps  in 
the  public  streets,  even  though,  before  they  were  strick- 
en, they  were  in  the  habit  of  applying  harsh  names,  such 
as  "  loafers,"  "  trash,"  and  "  tramps  "  to  those  who  did 
the  same  thing.  They  sit  upon  wharves  and  upturned 
boats  and  tree  stumps,  upon  grassy  ledges  and  fallen 
logs,  and,  if  they  are  permanent  residents  of  the  infected 
districts,  they  build  seats  all  about  their  open  grounds. 
They  put  benches  about  on  the  grass  and  piazzas,  and 
even  on  the  road-sides.  In  many  cases  they  order  great 
pavilions  like  giant  nests  built  around  their  trees,  and 
having  no  energy  with  which  to  conjure  a  new  and  fit 
name  for  these  airy  perches  in  which  they  while  away 
precious  time,  they  call  them  "  shoo-flies,"  a  name  utterly 
without  significance  in  that  connection.  They  will  hear 
the  news  of  the  day  if  any  one  will  tell  it  or  read  it  to 
them,  but  they  cannot  be  prevailed  upon  to  take  up  a 
newspaper.  Northern  men,  when  at  home,  who  take 
three  morning  newspapers,  an  afternoon  paper,  and  a 

126 


score  of  weeklies  and  magazines,  show  the  same  aversion 
for  printed  news  as  those  who  cannot  read  at  all.  An 
instance  is  related  of  a  Northern  editor  coming  to  Bi- 
loxi  and  falling  a  prey  to  this  strange  disorder.  Hav- 
ing a  I^ew  Orleans  paper  pressed  upon  him  with  the 
hint  that  it  contained  a  description  of  the  burning  of 
his  newspaper  building  during  the  previous  night,  he 
pushed  the  sheet  away,  saying:  "Let  her  burn.  I 
am  here  for  rest,  and  don't  want  business  mixed  up 
with  it." 

The  same  leading  medical  journal  which  records  this 
case  —  so  a  mere  doctor  would  continue  —  also  cites 
an  instance  of  a  Northern  broker  in  stocks  who  ar- 
ranged to  pay  extra  for  his  board  on  condition  that  the 
hotel  clerk  should  tell  him  if  Western  Union  dropped 
below  81f,  but  should  never,  under  any  other  circum- 
stances, mention  any  serious  matter  to  him  during  his 
stay  in  the  hotel. 

Thus  a  professional  student  of  the  disease  would  de- 
scribe the  Biloxi  fever,  missing  the  very  essence  of  that 
which  any  person  affected  with  the  complaint  would 
speak  of  at  the  outset.  That  point  is  its  engaging  char- 
acter, its  sensuous,  dreamy,  delicious,  soothing  nature. 
No  one  who  has  it  would  be  cured  of  it  on  any  account, 
until  the  time  came  to  make  a  supreme  effort  of  will 
and  catch  the  train  for  the  North.  A  poet  might  liken 
it  to  floating  on  whipped  cream  in  a  rose-leaf.  Or,  to 
put  it  so  that  the  dullest  mind  can  grasp  it,  the  feeling 
is  what  you  are  sure  a  great  good-natured  Newfound- 
land dog  enjoys  when  he  lies  blinking  at  the  sun  after 
a  hearty  dinner.  To  be  sure,  it  may  be  carried  to  ex- 
tremes, just  as  some  persons  go  to  great  lengths  with 
the  measles  and  chicken-pox,  and  in  such  a  case  I  can 
easily  fancy  that  a  man  with  a  good  supply  of  the  fever 
would  neglect  his  wife  and  babies,  and  sit  on  the  head 

127 


of  a  barrel  in  the  sun  for  years,  without  saying  who  he 
was  to  any  detectives  that  might  be  hired  to  find  him 
and  bring  him  out  of  Biloxi. 

At  all  events,  we  sat  down  on  the  store  porch  in  the 
fever  -  stricken  town,  and  just  then  a  fire  broke  out.     It 


L«-««.=-»V«»*''^_^'*T: 


A   SHOO-FLY 


was  announced  by  a  half-dozen  lazy  strokes  of  a  bell, 
which  created  a  great  disturbance.  There  was  no  yell- 
ing or  rushing  about  or  surging  of  crowds.  The  dis- 
turbance was  confined  to  a  dozen  volunteer  firemen. 
They  were  resting  in  their  homes  and  shops  and  offices, 
and  the  alarm  was  unexpected.  Some  had  to  dress,  and 
others  had  to  hunt  up  their  tire-hats.  These  were  things 
that  are  not  done  recklessly  in  Biloxi,  but  are  well  and 

138 


carefully  considered  beforehand.  It  was  therefore  some 
little  time  before  the  firemen  began  to  appear  in  the 
streets  and  to  come  calmly — as  Matthew  Arnold  ^vould 
hav^e  had  all  us  Americans  do — up  to  where  my  friend 
and  I  were  seated,  and  then  next  door  to  the  enofine- 
house.  On  the  way,  at  nearly  every  gate,  the  women 
halted  them  to  ask  where  the  fire  w^as,  and  in  every 
case  the  firemen  took  time  to  formulate  a  well-digested 
polite  answer,  to  the  effect  that  they  were  sorry  not  to 
be  able  to  say  at  that  time  anything  of  value  about  the 
fire.  In  time  they  got  the  handsome  old-fashioned 
hand -engine  out  into  the  street,  and  after  a  little  badi- 
nage and  a  resting -spell  they  shrewdly  paused  to  dis- 
cuss the  route  by  which  they  might  most  easily  reach 
the  general  locality  indicated  by  the  number  rung  out 
by  the  bell.  There  being  several  discordant  opinions 
to  weigh,  this  also  consumed  a  few  minutes.  Finally, 
like  a  well-ordered  body,  they  and  the  machine  got  un- 
der headway  and  presently  disappeared,  leaving  us  to 
the  full  enjoyment  of  the  succeeding  quiet,  which  was 
only  disturbed  by  a  thoughtless  question  put  by  one  of 
us  to  a  street  boy  as  to  ^vhat  sort  of  a  tree  it  was  that 
spread  its  noble  height  and  width  across  our  horizon. 
The  bo}''  replied  that  it  was  a  pecan  (he  said  ''pecawn"); 
and  had  he  stopped  at  that  all  would  have  been  well, 
but  he  launched  out  upon  a  perfect  clatter  of  facts 
about  the  nuts  the  tree  bore,  the  number  of  bushels  it 
yielded,  the  price  they  brought,  and,  in  short,  a  shower 
of  disturbing  and  unwelcome  information. 

After  a  long  time  the  firemen  came  back  in  the  same 
leisurely,  dignified  way  as  they  had  departed.  We 
heard  a  woman  ask  them  if  they  had  saved  the  build- 
ing, and  we  heard  a  fireman's  reply,  "  Xo,  ma'am :  the 
building  had  gone  when  ^ve  got  there ;  but  we  saved 


the  ground." 


129 


It  is  to  be  hoped  that  before  the  fever  seizes  you  the 
country  round  about  the  town  will  have  tempted  you  to 
eiijoy  its  many  delights.  They  speak  down  there  of  the 
strange  habit  the  IS'orthern  men  and  women  have  of 
taking  long  walks,  a  thing  the  Southern  mind  staggers 
at  newly  at  each  presentation  of  the  phenomenon.  In 
our  far  South,  if  one  has  not  a  horse  or  a  sail-boat,  and 
cannot  borrow  either,  there  is  nothing  to  do  but  to  stay 
at  home.  To  be  sure,  the  Northern  pedestrians  take 
few  walks  before  they  are  fever  -  stricken  and  leg  -  stiff- 
ened and  stranded  in  chairs  in  the  sunshine.  But  what 
walks !  Along  the  beach  the  water  flashes  before  the 
town,  all  aglitter  in  the  sunlight,  and  beyond  lie  the 
long  green  islands  of  the  Gulf,  fringed  with  spreading 
trees,  now  dense  and  now  mere  green  lace -work,  with 
the  blue  sky  and  bluer  Gulf  visible  through  it.  The 
pedestrians  turn  away  and  explore  the  land  only  to 
come  back  enraptured,  telling  of  the  templelike  forest 
of  pines  that  overspreads  the  land,  of  the  light  and 
shade,  of  the  vivid  green  feathered  against  the  clear 
blue,  of  the  white  sand  underfoot  with  its  soft  red  car- 
peting of  dead  pine-needles,  of  the  stillness  and  the 
purity  and  almost  parklike  semblance  of  order  every- 
where within  the  forest.  Alas,  that  they  should  soon 
lose  the  energy  to  renew  such  pleasure,  and  that  it 
should  joy  them  only  in  their  memories ! 

The  village  is  picturesque,  and  but  that  this  one  is 
the  oldest  of  these  Gulf  resorts  (and  was  a  summering- 
place  for  New  Orleans  folk  in  the  long,  long  ago),  what 
is  said  of  it  will  answer  for  all  the  others.  It  is  made 
up  of  little  cottages  of  pretty  and  uncommon  designs 
that  have  sprung  from  French  beginnings.  Often  the 
second  stories  project  beyond  the  parlor  floors  so  as  to 
provide  a  lower  porch ;  and  here  and  there  are  seen 
prettily  shaped  openings  in  the  upper  stories  so  as  to 

130 


make  additional  galleries.  When  vines  trail  up  the 
house  fronts  and  frame  these  galleries  the  effect  is  very 
pretty.  Vegetation  is  abundant,  the  trees  are  of  great 
size,  and  flowers  grow  in  luxuriance,  though  it  is  whis- 
pered that  there  is  sufficient  chill  in  the  air  of  winter 
nights  to  make  it  prudent  to  pull  the  potted  plants  in- 
doors in  cold  spells.  The  green  gardens  and  chromatic 
cottages  lie  prettily  beside  white  sand  streets,  where 
there  are  no  sidewalks,  but  borders  of  grass  instead. 
Natives  point  out  the  trees  as  chinaberries,  willows, 
cypresses,  magnolias,  oranges,  pecans,  peaches,  plums, 
and  apples.  The  people  love  the  castor -bean,  because 
it  has  a  tropical  look,  I  suppose,  and  thrives  so  well 
down  there.  I  have  seen  fifty-three  orange-trees  in  one 
garden,  checkered  with  golden  fruit  and  greenery,  and 
have  found  the  oranges  as  delicious  as  any  I  ever  ate. 
The  buds  come  upon  the  trees  before  the  fruit  is 
plucked.  The  people  in  the  tiny  streets  and  gardens 
are  extremely  democratic.  They  talk  to  all  who  pass 
their  way,  and  if  a  stranger  like  myself  refuses  to  make 
a  free  exchange  of  his  business  for  theirs,  they  will  give 
up  theirs  quite  as  freely,  if  he  will  stop  and  listen. 

These  are  often  Western  folk,  for  our  Eastern  people 
have  not  discovered  this  perpetual  summer  land,  but 
have  allowed  men  and  women  from  the  other  end  of 
the  Mississippi  Yalley  to  steal  this  march  upon  them. 
Therefore  w^e  find  a  small  section  of  the  place  spoken 
of  as  a  Michigan  settlement,  and  in  addition  there  are 
many  regular  winter  visitors  from  Wisconsin,  Iowa,  and 
Illinois.  They  discovered  the  Gulf  coast  about  seven 
years  ago,  and  make  it  a  habit  to  come  either  in  No- 
vember or  after  the  holidays,  and  to  stay  till  warm 
weather  reaches  the  North.  The  greater  number  go  to 
Pass  Christian,  a  rather  new  place,  prettily  spread  along 
the  beach,  and  with  a  large  well-managed  hotel  main- 

131 


tained  by  Chicago  people.  Ocean  Springs,  Bay  St.  Louis, 
and  Biloxi  are  the  other  resorts.  Biloxi,  the  oldest,  is 
the  most  quaintly  typical,  slightly  Frenchified  Southern 
town  of  them  all.  Bathing,  fishing,  driving,  and  cot- 
tage and  hotel  life  are  the  diversions. 

A  great  many  of  these  visitors  buy  cottages  and  mod- 
ernize them,  renting  them  for  a  hundred  or  a  hundred 
and  fifty  dollars  when  they  go  away  in  the  summer,  at 
which  time  the  New  Orleans  folk  come  along. 

At  Mrs.  Drysdale's  altogether  excellent,  old-fashioned, 
but  brand-new  hotel  in  Biloxi  I  could  find  no  fault  w4th 
anything,  but  it  is  said  that  the  Western  visitors  cannot 
abide  the  high  seasoning  with  chile  pepper  and  garlic 
w^hich  the  Creole  taste  demands,  or  the  Southern  ten- 
dency to  fry  everything,  even  the  fruit,  or  the  cofi'ee 
that  is  made  "  so  strong  that  it  stains  the  cups,"  or  the 
singular  Gulf -coast  custom  of  breaking  fast  at  nine 
o'clock  in  the  morning  and  dining  at  two  o'clock  in  the 
afternoon.  Cottage  life,  therefore,  has  the  greater  num- 
ber of  votaries  in  that  region.  They  go  there  to  escape 
the  Northern  Avinters,  and  are  told  that  the  Gulf  coast 
has  only  two  cold  spells  in  each  winter — one  in  Novem- 
ber and  one  in  February.  When  these  come  they  are 
found  to  bring  a  temperature  like  that  of  boarding- 
house  tea.  Bathing  can  be  indulged  in  all  the  year — 
enjoyed  all  the  year  by  the  men,  I  should  say,  and  in- 
dulged in  by  the  women,  for  the  custom  down  there  is 
for  the  women  to  immerse  themselves  in  little  pens 
under  the  bath-houses,  between  lattice- wTjrk  walls. 

Interesting  Southern  peculiarities  are  plentiful  down 
there.  I  never  saw  a  pecan-tree,  for  instance,  that  I  did 
not  think  of  the  famous  "  nigger  candy  "  of  New  Or- 
leans— the  irresistible  candy  of  the  Crescent  City  side- 
walks. There  they  take  the  pecan-nuts,  which  A^e  eat 
raw,  as  if  we  had  no  more  ingenuity  than  squirrels,  and 

132 


sprinkling  them  in  great  cakes  of  pure  brown  sugar, 
produce  a  confection  to  which  they  give  the  French 
name  of  praline^  but  which  is  so  unlike  any  other  candy 
in  the  world  as  to  deserve  a  new  American  name  of  its 
own.  The  old  "  mammies  "  make  the  candies  in  disks 
big  enough  to  cover  the  bottom  of  a  silk  hat,  and  even 
yet  keep  the  trade  to  themselves  and  away  from  the 
merchants,  although  the  visitors  to  the  gay  city  buy  up 


JEFFEllSON   DAVIS  S  MANSION,  BEAUVOIR,  AT   BILOXI 


whole  trays  of  them,  and  even  ship  them  to  the  JS^orth 
and  East.  Down  here  in  Mississippi  the  scuppernong 
grape  finds  its  farthest  Southern  foothold,  I  think ;  at 
least,  I  have  not  found  it  farther  away.  Travellers  to 
xlsheville  and  Florida  will  remember  that  it  is  the  wine 
that  is  served  at  that  celebrated  railway  restaurant  in 
North  Carolina  where  the  proprietor  and  the  w^aiters 
vie  with;  one  another  in  forcing  "extras"  and  second 
portions  of  the  nicest  dishes  upon  the  wayfarers.  There 
can  scarcely  be  such  another  restaurant  as  that.  "  Do 
have  another  quail,"  says  the  proprietor.    "  Let  me  give 

133 


you  more  of  this  scuppernong  wine.  It  is  made  near 
here,  and  is  perfectly  pure."  "  Won't  you  take  an 
orange  or  two  into  the  cars  with  yoti  ?"  or  "  Here's  a 
bunch  of  fresh  flowers  to  give  to  your  hidies."  The 
scuppernong  wine  has  even  more  of  that  peculiar 
''  fruity  "  flavor  than  the  best  California  wines — a  flavor 
that  I  am  barbarian  enough  to  prefer  to  the  "pucker" 
of  the  imported  claret.  You  may  have  it  with  your 
meals  in  Biloxi.  And  if  you  are  a  drinking  man,  Avhich 
Heaven  forefend,  you  may  have  "toddy"  in  the  style 
that  obtains  from  Virginia  to  farthermost  Texas,  and 
that  has  been  imported  to  Arkansas,  Missouri,  and  the 
Indian  Territory. 

It  was  on  the  banks  of  the  Arkansas  Kiver,  in  Indian 
Territory,  that  I  made  the  acquaintance  of  this  method 
of — as  a  friend  of  mine  would  say — "  spoiling  good  liq- 
uor." The  famous  Indian  champion.  Colonel  Boudinot, 
introduced  me  to  a  planter  whose  two  cabins,  side  by 
side  and  joined  by  a  single  roof,  formed  the  most  pictur- 
esque home  that  I  saw  on  that  splendid  river.  I  was 
introduced  as  plain  "  mister,"  but  that  would  not  do 
down  there. 

"  Colonel  Ealph,"  said  the  planter,  "enjoy  this  yer 
boundless  panorama  of  nature.  Feast  yo'  eyes,  sah,  on 
the  beautiful  river."  (Then  aside  :  "  Wife,  set  out  the 
mixin's  in  the  back  room.")  "  Colonel  Kalph,  you  are 
welcome  to  share  with  us  this  grand  feast  of  scenery  and 
nature's  ornaments.  But,  sah,  I  think  my  wife  has  set 
out  something — just  a  little  something — in  the  house. 
I  dun'no'  what  it  is,  sah,  but  if  a^ou  find  it  good,  I  shall 
be  delighted,  sah." 

So  we  went  into  the  back  room  with  this  other  Colonel 
Mulberry  Sellers,  and  there  on  the  dining-table  stood  a 
bottle,  a  bowl  of  sugar,  three  glasses  and  spoons,  and  a 
glass  pitcher  full  of  spring  water. 

134 


*'  Serve  yourself  to  a  toddy,  colonel,"  said  my  host. 

"  I'll  watch  you  first,"  said  I ;  "  I  don't  know  what 
a  toddy  is." 

"  Don't  know  what  a  toddy  is  ?"  said  the  hospitable 
man.  "  Why,  sah,  that  does  seem  strange  to  me.  Back 
in  gran'  ole  Virginia,  sah,  we  children  were  all  brought 
up  on  it,  sah.  Every  morning  my  revered  father  and 
my  sainted  mother  began  the  day  with  a  toddy,  sah, 
and  as  we  children  appeared,  my  mother  prepared  for 
each  one  an  especially  tempered  drink  of  the  same,  sah, 
putting — I  regret  to  say — a  little  more  water  in  mine 
than  the  others'  because  I  was  the  youngest  of  the 
children." 

As  he  spoke,  he  dipped  some  sugar  into  his  glass, 
poured  in  a  little  water,  sufficient  to  make  a  syrup  when 
the  two  ingredients  were  stirred  with  a  spoon,  and  then 
emptied  in  an  Arkansas  "  stiff ener"  of  whiskey — a  jo- 
rum, as  the  Enghsh  would  say.  That  is  the  drink  of 
the  South,  where  drinking,  without  being  carried  to  any 
excess  that  I  ever  witnessed,  still  remains  a  genteel  ac- 
complishment, as  it  was  held  to  be  by  the  English, 
Scotch,  and  Irish  who  were  the  progenitors  of  nearly 
all  our  Southern  brothers. 

Beauvoir,  the  seat  of  the  family  of  Jefferson  Davis, 
is  close  by  Biloxi,  and  as  Mississippi  reveres  his  memory 
as  that  of  her  most  distinguished  citizen,  I  rode  over  to 
visit  the  old  place.  I  had  thought  of  Mississippi  as  the 
last  stronghold  of  the  Southern  sectional  feeling,  and 
so  it  may  be,  but  I  discovered  even  less  signs  of  it  there 
than  anywhere  else  in  the  South.  Nowhere  did  I  en- 
counter a  greater  and  a  closer  mingling  of  the  natives 
with  the  new  immigrant  element,  which  latter  is  grow- 
ing strong  there  in  the  development  of  that  new  rela- 
tionship which  is  springing  up  between  the  Western 
people  at  the  head  of  the  Mississippi  Yalley  and  the 

135 


bachelors'  quarters,  beauvoir 

Southern  people  at  the  foot  of  it.  That  is  a  new  growth 
of  trade  and  friendship  which  the  student  of  this  coun- 
try's development  will  soon  need  to  take  into  account. 

But  it  is  a  strong  fresh  memory,  that  natives  and 
new-comers  share  alike,  of  the  ex- President  of  the  Con- 
federacy as  he  journeyed  to  his  upper  plantation  or  to 
'New  Orleans  or  walked  through  the  white  streets  of 
Biloxi,  a  tall,  spare,  impassive  man  of  great  natural  dig- 
nity, and  always  clad  in  a  suit  of  Confederate  gray, 
under  a  soft  military  hat,  until  he  was  seen  for  the  last 
time.  Although  a  Kentuckian  by  birth,  his  life  is  bound 
up  with  the  history  of  Mississippi.  For  that  State  he 
served  as  an  elector  in  1844,  voting  for  Polk  and  Dallas. 
He  was  a  planter  there,  and  went  from  there  to  Con- 
gress in  the  next  year.  As  Colonel  of  the  First  Mis- 
sissippi Volunteers  he  fought  bravely  in  the  Mexican 
war,  and  later  he  was  one  of  the  Senators  of  his  State 
in  the  Federal  Congress  and  Secretary  of  War  under 
President  Pierce.     After  the  collapse  of  the  Confeder- 

136 


acy  he  made  Beauvoir  his  most  favored  retreat  and 
resting-place,  and  there,  until  he  died,  he  received  let- 
ters from  the  young  college  students  of  the  South  ask- 
ing his  advice  as  to  their  future  courses  in  life,  and 
visits  alike  from  Northern  and  Southern  folk,  the  one 
to  make  his  acquaintance,  the  others  to  tender  their 
sympathy  and  respect. 

The  wav  to  Beauvoir  lies  either  along  the  beach  or 
through  the  woods  ;  but  I  chose  the  forest  road,  that  I 
might  as  many  times  as  possible  enjoy  its  wonderful 
order  and  neatness  and  beauty.  The  trees  rise,  at  short 
distances  apart,  above  the  level  clean  sand,  and  there 
is  nowhere  a  suggestion  of  impurity  either  upon  the 
ground  or  in  the  clear  sweet  balsamic  air.  There  is  a 
constant  suggestion  of  something  cathedral-like  in  the 
regular  uniform  columns  of  the  forest,  the  meetings  of 
their  limbs  overhead,  and  the  closing  shallow  vistas,  as 
of  naves,  on  every  hand.  The  dwarf  palmetto,  or  Span- 
ish-bayonet, grows  in  little  clumps  or  singly,  as  one 
would  distribute  it  for  ornament,  and  the  very  tropical 
long-leaf  pin^s,  leaping  high  in  air  before  they  put  out 
a  branch,  and  then  spreading  their  tops  like  palms, 
are  the  chief  denizens  of  these  silent  depths.  Here  and 
there  are  wet  spots,  it  is  true,  and  then  the  parklike 
character  of  the  woods  changes  to  a  jungle,  but  a  jungle 
so  thick  with  gum,  bay,  magnolia,  and  other  trees  that 
one  cannot  see  the  dank  water  they  shut  in. 

By  the  wood  road  the  back  of  Beauvoir  is  first  reached, 
and  is  found  to  be  a  tract  of  ten  acres,  devoted  to  the 
cultivation  of  the  scuppernong  grape.  The  vineyard  is 
a  scene  of  disorder  and  neglect.  The  rude  arbors  are 
rotting  and  falling  upon  the  vines,  and  the  young  per- 
simmon and  pecan  trees  that  have  been  set  out  there 
are  endangered  by  the  weeds  that  grow  riotously,  to 
exaggerate  the  suggestion  of  desolation.     The  mansion 

137 


is  around  a  bend  of  the  road,  commanding  the  dark  blue 
Gulf,  from  behind  ample  grounds  whose  fence  separates 
the  place  but  does  not  hide  its  beauties  from  the  white 
beach  drive  that  skirts  the  w^ater.  The  greatest  storm 
in  many  years  had  torn  up  the  road  when  I  was  there, 
and,  worse  yet,  had  played  havoc  with  the  splendid 
trees  that  beautified  the  noble  estate.  There  are  many 
giant  live-oaks  and  a  few  hickories  and  cedars,  but,  alas ! 
the  ground  was  littered  with  the  debris  of  their  wreck- 
age, and  some  were  prone  upon  the  earth — one  of  the 
dead  being  a  splendid  big  hickory,  which  it  would  have 
been  supposed  no  wind  could  maltreat.  The  gate  was 
tied  up,  and  the  house  was  closed,  so  that  had  it  been 
pointed  out  to  me  as  a  haunted  house,  abandoned  by 
its  owners,  the  scene  presented  there  would  have  been 
exactly  accounted  for. 

It  has  been  a  noble  place,  and  could  be  made  so  again 
with  little  trouble  and  expense.  !No  house  that  I  have 
seen  in  the  South  is  more  eloquent  of  the  full  possibili- 
ties of  the  aristocratic  baronial  life  of  the  planter  before 
the  war.  To  look  upon  it  even  now  is  to  recall  a  thou- 
sand tales  and  anecdotes  of  the  elegant  life,  the  hospi- 
tality, and  the  comfort  of  the  old  regime.  The  main 
house  is  a  great,  square,  low  building,  with  a  gallery  on 
three  sides,  reached  by  a  broad,  high  flight  of  steps.  A. 
great  and  beautiful  door  leads  to  a  wide  central  hall- 
way, through  which  one  could  see,  when  the  house  was 
open,  either  the  blue  Gulf  and  distant  islands  in  front, 
or  the  great  oaks  with  their  funereal  drapery  of  Spanish- 
moss  in  the  rear.  Two  other  similar  but  smaller  houses 
stand,  like  heralds  of  the  old  hospitality,  a  little  forward 
on  either  side  of  the  mansion.  Both  are  square,  red- 
roofed,  one-story  miniatures  of  the  manor-house.  Each 
has  its  roof  reaching  out  to  form  a  broad  porch  in  front. 
One  is  the  bachelors'  quarters,  for  guests  and  relatives 

138 


of  that  unhappy  persuasion,  and  the  other  is  Mr.  Davis's 
library  and  retreat.  There  everything  is  as  he  loved  to 
have  it  around  hini  when  he  sat  in-doors,  and  out  on 
the  beach  is  the  ruin  and  wreck  of  a  seat  under  some 
live-oaks  where  he  used  to  sit  and  look  upon  the  broad 
water  and  reflect  upon  his  extraordinary^  and  most 
active  life.  Behind  these  three  buildings  is  the  usual 
array  of  out-buildings,  such  as  every  Southern  mansion 
collected  in  its  shadow — the  kitchen,  the  servants'  quar- 
ters, the  dairy,  and  the  others. 


IN   THE   LIBRARY   AT  BEAUVOIR 


I  went  into  the  little  library  building  and  saw  his 
books,  his  pictures,  his  easy-chair  and  table,  and — behind 
the  main  room — his  tiny  bedroom  and  anteroom,  the 
bedroom  being  so  small  that  it  could  accommodate  no 
larger  bed  than  the  mere  cot  which  is  shoved  against 

139 


the  window.  His  books  would  indicate  that  he  was  a 
religious  man  with  a  subordinate  interest  in  history.  In 
a  closet  he  kept  a  remarkable  collection  of  prayer- 
books,  and  in  an  open  case  were  many  volumes  of 
novels,  which  the  care-taker  of  the  place  called  "  trash," 
and  accounted  for  with  the  explanation  that  Mr.  Davis 
maintained  a  sort  of  circulating  library  for  the  use  of 
his  ex-Confederate  soldier  friends.  The  pictures  that 
still  hang  upon  the  walls  struck  me  as  a  strange  collec- 
tion. One  shows  some  martyrs,  dead,  in  a  gladiatorial 
am|)hitheatre ;  one  is  of  a  drowned  girl  floating  beneath 
a  halo  in  a  night-darkened  stream ;  one  is  a  portrait  of 
our  Saviour  beside  several  madonnas ;  and  only  one  is  a 
military  picture.  Thither  came  constant  visitors,  for 
it  was  "the  thing  to  do"  in  Biloxi — far  too  much  so  for 
the  privacy  and  comfort  of  the  family,  I  suspect ;  but  it 
is  recollected  that  Mr.  Davis  delighted  in  showing  his 
library  to  all  who  called  after  twelve  o'clock  noon.  The 
main  house  was  seen  only  by  those  who  had  a  claim 
upon  his  affections.  I  visited  it  and  found  it  made  up  of 
noble  rooms  and  decorated  beautifully  with  fresco-work. 
But  nearly  all  the  furniture  and  ornaments  and  pictures 
were  packed  up  or  covered  as  if  ready  for  removal.  The 
effect  upon  my  mind  was  sad  and  almost  tragic,  and  I 
hastened  from  the  widespread  scene  of  havoc  and  of 
neglect,  which  even  threatens  the  house  itself.  I  learned 
enough  to  know  that  this  does  not  reflect  discredit  upon 
the  little  family  that  was  bereaved  by  the  Southern 
leader's  death,  for  the  maintenance  of  the  place  would 
entail  an  expense  which,  if  they  were  able  to  meet  it, 
would  still  be  an  unwise  disposition  of  their  means. 

It  was  with  less  pleasure  that,  on  returning  to  Biloxi, 
I  conjured  up  a  picture  of  the  old  man  threading  the 
village  streets,  where  every  man  who  passed  him  lifted 
his  hat,  where  all  who  had  grievances  stopped  him  to 

140 


get  his  ready  sympathy,  and  where  those  who  had  served 
him  pressed  his  hand  as  they  met  him.  It  may  be  fit-- 
ting,  in  view  of  everything  that  has  passed,  that  Beau- 
voir  should  become  a  ruin,  but  hardly  so  soon  as  this. 

I  said  so  to  the  honest  old  German  who  is  in  charo-e 
of  the  place,  and  whom  I  found  battling  hopelessly  with 
the  tons  of  wreckage  left  by  the  last  great  storm.  He 
shook  his  head,  and  it  seemed  to  me  that  his  eyes  were 
moist. 

"  Were  you  a  Confederate  soldier  ?"  I  asked. 

He  turned  upon  me  quickly. 

^'  Of  course  I  was,"  he  said ;  ''  else  I  should  not  be 
here." 

Every  prospect  from  the  shore  about  Biloxi  includes 
at  least  one  of  the  long  low  wooded  islands  in  the  glit- 
tering Gulf,  and  every  look  establishes  a  telegraphic 
communication  by  which  the  islands  seem  to  say,  "  Come 
out  to  us ;  we  will  give  you  joy."  On  the  mainland, 
too,  the  people  urge  you  to  accept  the  invitation. 
"  They  are  different  from  the  shore,  and  prettier,"  they 
say.  Lucky  are  you  if  you  yield  to  all  these  solicita- 
tions. They  are  jewels  —  emeralds  studding  the  tur- 
quoise gulf.  They  are  foreign.  You  feel,  even  though 
you  liave  never  been  to  the  Sandwich  Islands,  that  these 
are  like  them,  and  that  you  are  in  a  new  and  unfamiliar 
but  beautiful  country.  The  mainland  had  seemed  like 
a  bit  of  ornament,  of  lace -work  on  the  edge  of  our 
country,  but  these  islands  appear  to  be  not  of  our  coun- 
try at  all.  They  are  Polynesian,  if  they  are  not  Ha- 
waiian. They  are  all  long  and  narrow,  sometimes  eigh- 
teen miles  long  and  only  half  a  mile  wide,  and  they  are 
said  to  be  crawling  in  the  direction  they  point  to — tow- 
ards Mexico.  It  is  said  that  the  time  w^as  when  they 
w^ere  joined  to  Florida,  Alabama,  and  Mississippi,  but 
the  water  cut  them  off,  and  now  it  keeps  cutting  away 

141 


the  landward  ends  and  building  out  the  farther  points, 
so  that  they  seem  to  be  lazily  moving  to  the  tropics.  I 
do  not  vouch  for  the  story,  but  give  it  as  I  got  it,  be- 
cause it  accords  with  their  foreignness  to  think  of  them 
as  lazy,  indolent  travellers,  seeking  a  climate  more  con- 
genial than  that  with  which  fate  first  bound  them. 

Out  on  those  islands  the  sand  is  as  white  as  the  whitest 
sugar,  the  water  is  as  deep  a  blue  as  that  of  the  Adri- 
atic, and  the  sky  is  like  the  side  of  a  lighted  lantern  of 
pale  blue  silk.  The  snow-white  sand  is  continually  shift- 
ing, changing  its  surface  forms,  travelling  constanth^, 
as  if  the  progress  of  the  islands  was  too  slow  for  it. 
Thus  it  happens  that  5^ou  see  towering  white  dunes  of 
it  which  reach  a  knifelike  edge  into  the  water,  and  then 
rise  gradually  higher  and  higher  in  a  soft  white  plane 
until  they  are  forty  feet  high,  and  there  they  end  ab- 
ruptly, so  that  from  behind  they  appear  like  towering 
smooth  white  walls.  They  bury  the  trees,  of  many  sorts 
that  you  do  not  remember  to  have  seen  on  shore,  and 
their  dead  trunk  ends  and  black  bodies  protrude  here 
and  there  above  or  in  the  faces  of  the  devouring  white 
hills. 

'The  water  is  apt  to  be  as  gentle  and  calm  as  it  is 
blue,  basking  eternally  in  the  brilliant  sunlight.  But 
when  a  breeze  ruffles  it  billions  of  brilliant  gems  appear 
as  its  upturned  points  sparkle  all  over  it.  It  is  a  pisca- 
torial Eden,  alive  with  fish.  It  is  so  clear  that  you  may 
see  them  at  their  play  and  work,  fishes  of  ever  so  many 
and  ever  such  queer  kinds.  Great  turtles  are  among 
them,  and  sharks  and  porpoises  and  gars,  darting  or 
hanging,  as  if  they  too  had  the  Biloxi  fever,  above 
schools  of  sheep's-head  and  pompano,  and  I  know  not 
how  many  other  sorts  of  creatures.  You  could  not  see 
them  better  if  you  were  looking  through  the  clear  glass 
walls  of  a  vast  aquarium.     You  undress  and  plunge  in 

142 


to  find  the  water  just  as  you  would  order  it  if  you  could, 
a  mere  trifle  cooler  than  the  atmosphere,  but  ever  so 
buoyant.  You  float  and  loll  and  lie  about  and  dream 
in  it,  thanlving  the  Creator  that  you  are  the  veriest  bit 
amphibious,  and  fancying  yourself  completely  so. 

There  is  little  other  animal  life  than  what  you  bring 
on  most  of  the  islands.  On  some  there  are  people 
enough  to  spoil  them,  but  on  others  there  may  be  only 
one  shanty  or  a  light-house,  or  no  habitation  at  all,  but 
grazing  cattle  here  and  there. 

An  unexpected  feature  of  life  in  some  of  these  little 
Gulf  resorts  is  due  to  the  number  of  sea-captains  one  is 
apt  to  meet  at  ttie  hotels  and  in  the  streets.  They  put 
the  little  loafing-places  in  touch  with  a  great  deal  more 
of  the  world  than  the  railroads  introduce  there,  for  these 
generally  jolly  mariners  come  from  JS^orway  and  Sweden 
and  France  and  Eno^land,  and  even  from  more  distant 


A   CORNER  IN   THE  LIBRARY,  BEAUVOIR 
143 


lands.  The  fact  that  3^ou  do  not  see  their  ships  lends  a 
little  touch  of  mystery  to  their  presence ;  but  it  is  a  short- 
lived mystery  if  you  attack  it  with  the  first  natural  ques- 
tion, for  then  you  learn  that  their  vessels  are  lying  with- 
in shelter  of  the  islands  off  shore,  loading  with  lumber. 
This  lumber  they  swallow  up  in  prodigious  quantities. 
They  do  this  in  such  a  way  as  to  suggest  those  people 
whom  Munchausen  found  on  an  adjacent  planet  to  this, 
who  used  to  open  a  door  in  their  stomachs  and  pop  in 
food  for  several  days  when  they  were  going  off  on  a 
journey.  Just  so  these  lumbermen  swallow  sections  of 
forests  without  having  them  cut  up  to  go  into  their 
holds,  by  opening  a  door  into  their  stomachs,  in  the 
shape  of  a  great  hole  in  each  bow,  into  which  the  long 
tree -trunks  are  slid.  We  are  apt  to  think  of  lumber 
and  timber  as  products  peculiar  to  Maine  and  Michi- 
gan, Minnesota  and  Washington,  but  every  one  of  the 
Southern  States  is  a  grand  storehouse  of  valuable  tim- 
ber, and  none  is  greater  than  Mississippi. 

That  part  of  her  territory  which  is  covered  by  forests 
is  just  four  times  the  size  of  Massachusetts — or  more 
than  twenty-one  millions  of  acres.  The  reader  wonders 
how  that  can  be  true  of  the  king  of  the  cotton  States, 
since  that  royal  rank  implies  a  vast  farming  area.  It  is 
because  Mississippi  is  larger  than  Pennsylvania  by  a 
thousand  square  miles,  or  nine  times  larger  than  Massa- 
chusetts. Her  great  agricultural  development  has  been 
reached  by  denuding  more  than  half  of  her  surface  of 
forests. 

To  understand  this,  and  the  State,  it  is  necessary  to 
remember  that  Mississippi  is  divided  into  three  longi- 
tudinal belts :  1,  the  Delta  strip,  along  the  Mississippi 
Eiver ;  2,  the  hilly  belt  down  the  middle  of  the  State ; 
and  3,  the  so-called  "  prairies,"  on  the  side  next  to  Ala- 
bama.    The  Delta  soil  is  alluvial  and  very  rich,  and  is 

144 


very  productive,  of  cotton  mainly.  The  hillock  land, 
that  which  was  until  recently  considered  the  very  poor- 
est land  outside  of  the  swamps,  is  now  the  source  of 
great  wealth,  because  here  are  grown  the  vegetables 
and  small  fruits  whose  introduction  is  revolutionizinof 
and  enriching  the  State.  It  is  rich  also  because  it  is 
cultivated  in  small  holdings  by  white  labor  and  by  eco- 
nomical methods.  We  better  understand  how  such  an 
influence  affects  a  people  when  w^e  reach  the  prairie  belt, 
now  the  poorest  part  of  the  State,  though  its  soil  is  black 
and  vegetation  planted  there  becomes  luxuriant.  It  is 
farmed  in  large  plantations  like  the  Delta  land,  but  it 
does  not  flourish  because  these  are  rented  out  and  not 
kept  up  by  their  owners.  Like  the  Irish  landlords,  they 
spend  their  money  elsewhere  instead  of  on  their  land, 
as  the  small  holder  does,  in  fertilizers,  improvements, 
and  repairs. 

But  while  this  division  of  the  State  is  actual,  the  reader 
must  now  imagine  all  three  of  these  belts  covered  by  a 
vast  virgin  pine  forest  from  the  middle  of  the  State  to 
the  Gulf.  To  be  exact,  let  me  say  that  this  forest  ex- 
tends over  nearly  the  whole  area  between  Alabama  on 
the  east  and  the  Illinois  Central  Kailroad  in  the  west, 
and  between  the  Gulf  and  a  line  drawn  across  the  State 
from  the  city  of  Meridian  to  the  railroad  I  have  men- 
tioned. This  forest  region  is  about  90  miles  wide  and 
180  miles  long,  and  is  in  the  main  as  beautiful  as  a  park. 
Pine,  gum,  oak,  and  cotton  wood  are.  the  trees,  though 
on  the  Delta  side  cypress,  ash,  poplar,  hickory,  and  gum 
are  abundant.  For  fifty  years  or  more  this  district  has 
been  "lumbered"  wherever  the  logs  could  be  floated 
down  the  many  streams  that  all  flow  to  the  Gulf  of 
Mexico,  and  yet  it  is  said  that  but  a  tiny  fraction  of  the 
valuable  wood  has  been  cut,  and  not  even  yet  have  the 
lumbermen  been  oblio:ed  to  o^o  to  a  distance  from  the 


145 


streams.  There  are  millions  upon  millions  of  feet  of 
long-leaf  pine  in  this  region,  while  in  the  northern  part 
of  the  State  more  than  one-third  as  much  short-leaf  pine 
is  standing. 

In  this  great  Southern  district  of  forest  a  large 
amount  of  Western  capital  has  been  invested  in  lumber- 
ing, and  of  the  men  engaged  in  the  pursuit  fully  one- 
half  are  from  the  West  and  the  North.  Immense  tracts 
of  this  woodland  are  held  untouched  for  the  great  rise 


READING-KOOM    IN   THE    LIBRARY,  BEAUVOIR 


in  their  value  that  must  certainly  follow  the  destruction 
of  the  timber  resources  of  the  Northwest.  These  Mis- 
sissippi forest  lands  were  public,  government  land,  and 
the  speculative  corporations  bought  enormous  tracts  at 
prices  that  were  sometimes  as  low  as  a  dollar  and  a  half 
an  acre.     This  unjust  and  scandalous  absorption  by  the 

146 


wealthy  of  that  which  should  have  been  held  for  the 
people  and  for  the  enrichment  of  the  State  aroused  the 
indignation  of  those  who  watched  it,  and  two  or  three 
years  ago  the  people  obtained  Federal  legislation,  by 
which  what  remains  of  the  land  is  saved  for  the  posses- 
sion of  actual  settlers  exclusively.  Less  than  half  of  it — 
possibly  little  more  than  a  third — was  thus  preserved. 
That  which  is  being  cut  is  not  only  shipped  to  Europe, 
as  I  have  described,  but  it  also  goes  in  great  quantities 
to  the  West — to  Chicago  and  intermediate  points,  and 
to  St.  Louis  as  the  distributing- point  for  the  farther 
West. 

Down  on  the  Gulf  .coast  I  had  shown  to  me  the  tidy 
home  and  thrifty-looking  farm  of  a  man  who  was  said 
to  have  walked  into  that  section  "  with  nothing  in  the 
world  but  a  shirt,  trousers,  and  boots  "—the  very  sort  of 
man  that  most  of  my  Southern  friends  sa}^  that  they 
don't  want  as  a  type  of  the  new  blood  they  aim  for  in 
their  efforts  towards  attracting  immigrants.  But  this 
man  picked  up  a  living  somehow,  as  men  of  the  stuff  to 
emigrate  are  apt  to  do,  and  presently  he  had  saved 
enough  to  buy  a  patch  of  woodland.  Then  he  turned 
that  into  a  farm,  and  has  become  a  comfortable  citizen, 
growing  vegetables  the  year  round,  and  demonstrating 
that  a  man  with  the  will  can  establish  himself  in  the 
South  in  the  same  way  in  which  poor  men  have  built  up 
whole  Western  States,  and  with  as  great  individual  suc- 
cess, if  not  greater. 

Among  the  places  that  I  visited  in  Mississippi  was 
Jackson,  and  there  the  condition  of  the  old  State  House 
suggested  the  thought  that  perhaps  the  rebellious  sub- 
jects of  old  King  Cotton  are  more  interested  in  the  pres- 
ent day  than  in  any  part  of  their  past.  Like  Beauvoir,  it 
was  a  pitiful  object  of  neglect.  The  old  clock  face  on 
its  front  had  turned  into  a  great  plate  of  rust,  the  un- 

147 


looked-for  statues  of  Bacchus  and  Yenus  in  the  once 
noble  lobby  beneath  the  dome  now  stand  ridiculous  in  a 
scene  of  untidiness  and  slow  decay.     The  Senate-Cham- 


SLEEPING-ROOM  IN   THE  LIBRARY,  BEAIJ\^OIR 


ber  has  its  roof  upheld  by  rough  trusses  of  raw  Avood, 
and  the  originally  fine  hall  of  the  Assembly  is  orna- 
mented with  the  advertisement  of  an  insurance  com- 
pany, the  faded  banner  of  a  lodge  of  Confederate  veter- 
ans, hung  awry  on  one  side  of  the  Speaker's  chair,  and  a 
cheap  portrait  that  dangles  threateningly  overhead. 

The  capital  itself  is  a  busy  and  a  prosperous  place, 
stirred  by  men  of  modern  ideas  and  interests,  who  proud- 
ly show  a  visitor  their  rows  of  fine  residences  and  two 
bustling  business  streets,  their  promising  college,  found- 
ed by  a  banker  in  the  town  who  loves  his  fellow-men. 
And  these  leaders  are  fully  alive  to  the  revolution  that 
is  pushing  the  State  into  prosperity.  The  Governor's 
mansion,   so   strongly   recalling   the   White   House   at 

148 


Washington,  is  one  of  the  sights  of  the  town,  but  to  me 
nothing  was  so  interesting  as  the  continual  movement  of 
baled  cotton  through  the  streets,  and  the  habit  the  peo- 
ple have  of  piling  it  up  beside  the  Capitol,  so  that  one 
sees  the  palace  of  the  threatened  king,  neglected  and  in 
need  of  general  repairing,  rising  above  the  mountain  of 
the  bales  that  typifies  his  throne. 

Cotton-mills  are  not  as  numerous  in  the  State  as  in  the 
Carolinas  and  Georgia,  and  yet  one — that  at  Wesson — 
is  one  of  the  finest  in  America.  There  is  a  yarn-mill  at 
Water  Yalley,  and  there  are  mills  for  the  making  of  un- 
bleached cotton  at  Enterprise,  near  Meridian,  and  at 
Columbus.  The  Wesson  cotton  and  woollen  mills  show 
so  triumphantly  what  can  be  done  in  the  South,  as  well  as 
wherever  enterprise  determines  to  make  success,  that  I 
wish  to  speak  of  them  at  length.  They  Avere  founded 
in  1871,  and  have  been  so  phenomenally  successful  as  to 
give  certain  goods  that  bear  their  name  an  almost  world- 
wide celebrity  and  rank — so  successful  as  to  increase  the 
value  of  the  stock  ten  dollars  for  one  that  has  been 
invested  in  them.  By  the  reinvestment  of  the  divi- 
dends they  have  been  brought  to  their  present  com- 
pleteness and  excellence.  By  constantly  replacing  old 
machinery  with  that  which  is  newer  and  better  they 
have  been  made  as  modern  as  if  they  were  equipped 
yesterday.  They  manufacture  all  classes  of  cotton 
goods  —  cotton  rope,  rag  carpet,  twines,  hosiery,  jean, 
wool  jeans,  cassimeres,  ladies'  dress  goods,  and  flan- 
nelette. They  consist  of  three  large  brick  buildings, 
equipped  with  electric  lights,  automatic  sprinklers,  and 
water-towers.  The  annual  output  of  manufactured  stufi"s 
has  been  about  a  million  and  a  half  dollars'  worth.  The 
operatives  number  1500,  are  natives  of  the  State,  and 
are  all  white.  The  commercial  depression  of  1893  caused 
a  partial  closing  of  the  mills  in  August  of  that  year,  but 

149 


the  attitude  of  the  owners  towards  their  work-people  is 
such  that  no  misery  followed.  Winter  fuel  and  house- 
rent  free  were  given  to  all  the  operatives,  and  the  heads 
of  the  families  were  kept  employed  in  order  that  there 
should  be  money  for  necessaries  for  all.  It  did  not  sur- 
prise me  in  hearing  this  to  learn  further  that  there  has 
never  been  a  labor  union  nor  a  day  of  what  is  commonl v 
known  as  "labor  trouble"  in  Wesson.  James. S.  Rich- 
ardson, of  the  noted  family  of  cotton-planters,  is  presi- 
dent of  the  mills,  and  the  directors  are  W.  W.  Gordon, 
John  Oliver,  and  R.  L.  Saunders. 

But  Mississippi  has  many  good  tidings  of  progress 
and  of  approaching  liberation  from  the  cruel  thraldom 
of  that  product  in  which  she  once  led  the  South.  J^ew 
farming  industries  and  new  uses  for  the  land  are  forcing 
themselves  upon  the  public  as  well  as  the  local  attention. 
The  Illinois  Central  Railroad,  with  its  quick  and  direct 
service,  is  fetching  sturdy  Western  people  into  the  State, 
and  sometimes  they  are  leading,  sometimes  copying  the 
more  ambitious  natives  in  the  movement  away  from  the 
exclusive  growing  of  cotton.  In  Madison,  in  the  county 
of  that  name,  the  pioneer  was  Dr.  II.  E.  McKay,  the 
President  of  the  State  Horticultural  Society.  A  dozen 
years  ago  he  began  experimenting  with  strawberries, 
and  with  such  success  that  his  little  town  of  100  inhab- 
itants now"  ships  as  many  as  five  car-loads  of  luscious 
berries  daily  during  a  season  of  from  four  to  six  weeks. 
He  has  120  acres  planted  in  strawberries,  his  brother, 
Dr.  John  McKay,  has  between  80  and  100,  and  their 
neighbors  manage  strawberry  patches  of  from  15  to  SO 
acres  each.  It  was  a  brand-new  business  a  dozen  years 
ago,  and  it  had  to  be  learned ;  but  to-day  all  engaged 
in  it  are  more  than  satisfied,  and  declare  it  to  be  far 
better  than  cotton-planting.  I  do  not  know  whether 
the  average  Northern  reader  appreciates  the  importance 

150 


of  experiments  and  examples  like  tfciis,  but  to  me  these 
steps  towards  assured  wealth  for  the  South — especially 
since  I  know  how  belated  they  have  been,  and  how 
slowly  they  are  taken  even  yet — are  most  interesting. 

The  Madison  berries  are  the  second  to  enter  the  mar- 
ket. The  first  are  grown  around  Hammond,  in  Louisi- 
ana, Tvhere  the  farmers — in  the  same  piny -woods  soil 
that  Mississippi's  new  trucking  region  consists  of — began 
by  raising  early  spring  produce  for  the  North.  To-day 
they  embrace  their  full  opportunity  down  there  in  Lou- 
isiana, and  actually  ship  produce  every  day,  the  year 
round.  I  will  not  print  the  necessary  half-page  list  of 
what  they  grow,  but  it  embraces  all  garden-truck,  many 
small  fruits,  and  much  beside ;  and  soon  after  cabbages 
are  ready  for  shipment,  in  December,  the  next  year's 
full  round  of  incessant  crops  begins.  But  to  return  to 
Mississippi,  where  the  same  processes  will  eventually 
bring  fortunes  to  great  communities  not  yet  estab- 
lished, let  me  add  that  thousands  of  fruit-trees  have 
been  planted  on  the  strawberry  farms,  and  some  are 
beginning  to  yield.  The  people  mean  to  put  their  eggs 
in  more  than  one  basket.  They  are  going  into  trucking 
also. 

At  Crystal  Springs,  south  of  Jackson,  on  the  Illinois 
Central  Eailroad,  a  few  of  those  Western  people  whom 
that  iron  highway  is  bringing  into  Mississippi  are  co-op- 
erating with  the  natives  in  the  raising  of  truck.  Toma- 
toes, pease,  cucumbers,  and  beans  are  the  chief  growths, 
and  the  town  shipped  as  many  as  thirty  car  -  loads  of 
"table"  tomatoes  in  one  day  of  last  June.  In  that 
month  Crystal  Springs  earned  and  got  $350,000,  which 
came  just  as  the  cotton-planters  needed  money.  The 
manner  in  which  these  new  agricultural  methods  bring 
money  into  the  State  at  all  seasons  is  one  of  its  advan- 
tages that  is  of  more  moment  than  we,  Avho  live  nearer 

152 


the  financial  centres,  can  easily  imagine.  Durant  and 
Terry  are  other  towns  that  are  feeling  this  agricultural 
revolution. 

The  entire  middle  section  of  the  State  is  becoming  a 
great  horse  -  raising  region,  and  it  is  said  that  there  are 
as  many  horses  in  Mississippi  as  in  Kentucky.     This, 


SENATE- CHAMBER   AT  JACKSON 


too,  is  the  best  hay  section  in  the  South,  except  the 
blue -grass  region.  Large  quantities  of  hay  are  being 
shipped  to  New  Orleans  and  to  the  Delta  planters,  who 
give   up  their  lands  to  cotton.     Bermuda  and   other 

153 


grasses  grow  naturally  there,  but  the  lespedeza,  or 
Japan  clover,  is  the  best.  It  mysteriously  appeared 
after  the  close  of  the  war.  It  had  undoubtedly  been' 
brought  there  by  the  Northern  soldiers.  Its  seeds 
blow  everywhere,  and  it  has  spread  marvellously  far 
and  fast.  On  the  poores't  hill  land  it  grows  tall  enough 
to  mow  and  bale.  It  is  preferred  to  any  other  hay  by 
the  cattle,  and  it  fetches  ten  dollars  a  ton.  In  the 
western  part  of  the  State,  in  Clay  and  Chickasaw  coun- 
ties, a  large  number  of  Northern  people  have  gone  into 
the  horse  business.  Thev  are  mainly  raising  working 
stock,  such  as  used  to  be  brought  in  from  Tennessee. 
The  butter  and  milk  dearth  is  ended  in  central  Missis- 
sippi. A  number  of  dairy  farms  have  been  established, 
and  the  keeping  of  cows  is  becoming  general.  Even  on 
the  poorest  land  and  among  the  poorest  farmers  pork 
and  beef  are  being  raised  to  insure  meat  for  the  fami- 
lies, whether  cotton  fetches  paying  or  losing  prices. 

It  is  thus  that  the  South  is  forced  to  acknowledge 
that  the  original  Plymouth  plan  is  better  than  the 
Jamestown  experiment.  The  Jamestown  or  Virginia 
idea  was  to  grow  nothing  but  tobacco,  and  then  use  it 
to  buy  everything  else  that  was  needed  to  support  life. 
The  Plymouth  plan  was  to  grow  the  necessaries  of  life 
and  sell  the  surplus,  if  there  was  any.  To-day,  from 
the  Norfolk  (Virginia)  truck  farms  to  the  truck  farms 
of  Louisiana,  the  South  is  paying  tribute  to  the  Yankee 
notion.  She  is  prosperous  wherever  that  is  the  case. 
She  is  otherwise  wherever  the  Jamestown  method  still 
obtains. 

To  be  thoroughly  successful  the  Plymouth  method 
required  personal  industry,  on  the  part  of  the  small 
farmer  at  least.  They  are  finding  this  out  also  in  Mis- 
sissippi ;  but  to  a  Northern  man,  who  believes  that 
"  work  elevates  and  ennobles  the  soul,"  it  sounds  very 

154 


funny  to  hear  the  people  apologizing  for  what  they  are 
doing.  Mere  farm-work  is  considered  plebeian  and  vul- 
gar, but  they  find  "  dairying  and  horticulture  more  re- 
fined." They  say  that  men  of  education  do  not  like  to 
do  with  the  plough  and  the  stable,  but  that  "you  see 
gentlemen  and  their  sons  at  work  in  the  orchards  and 
berry  -  fields,  and  around  Crystal  Springs  you  may  see 
a  hundred  young  ladies  of  good  families  at  work  pack- 
ing fruit."  That  is  great  progress  and  a  great  conces- 
sion for  the  South.  So  long  as  the  people  work  they 
will  thrive,  and  if  they  sugar  their  lives  by  calling  fruit- 
farming  by  the  name  of  "horticulture,"  it  does  not  mat- 


GOVERNOR  S  MANSION  AT  JACKSON 

ter  so  long  as  they  acknowledge  the  truth  of  Poor 
Eichard's  maxim  that 

"He  who  by  the  Soil  would  Thrive 
Must  either  hold  the  Plough  or  Drive." 


The  rule  of  the  Jamestown  plan  is  broken  in  Missis- 
sippi but  not  destroyed.  The  cotton-planters  in  the 
bottom  lands  own  between  500  and  1500  or  2000  acres 
each.     They  farm  out  these  plantations  to  the  negroes. 


155 


Each  negro  gets  a  cabin,  a  mule,  a  plough,  and  a  little 
garden-patch  free,  as  the  tools  with  which  to  work.  He 
is  to  plant  and  pick  fifteen  acres  of  cotton,  and  is  to  re- 
ceive' half  of  what  it  brings.  The  cotton  yields  between 
half  a  bale  and  a  bale  per  acre,  and  fetches  just  now  $25 
a  bale.  The  negro  needs  the  help  of  his  wife  and  many 
children  to  pick  it.  At  an  average  return  of,  say,  ten 
bales  of  cotton  to  fifteen  acres  the  negro  gets  $125  for 
his  year's  work.  The  cotton  seed  brings  seven  to  ten 
dollars  a  ton,  so  that  from  the  sale  of  that  he  gets  $35 
more.  Some  planters  grow  corn  for  market,  and  others 
allow  the  negroes  to  plant  a  good  deal  of  corn  to  live 
upon.  Unfortunately  the  rule  with  the  negro  is  to  sell 
his  corn  before  Christmas  at  50  cents  a  bushel,  and  buy 
it  back  in  February  at  $1  25.  The  negroes  deal  with 
the  local  merchants,  who  are  mainly  Hebrews,  on  the 
credit  plan.  They  are  made  to  pay  two  prices,  and  the 
Jews  limit  them  to  what  it  is  thought  their  crops  will 
bring.  These  merchants  add  about  fift}^  per  cent,  for 
the  hazard  of  poor  crops,  death,  losses  by  storms,  and 
whatevei*. 

The  negro  is  holding  the  South  back  in  this  as  in 
other  respects.  The  small  white  farmer  can  adjust  him- 
self to  circumstances.  He  can  say  that  if  cotton  does 
not  pay  at  this  year's  price  of  five  cents  a  pound,  he 
will  raise  more  meat  and  corn  for  home  consumption. 
He  can  also  raise  enough  to  feed  what  tenants  he  em- 
ploys. But  the  negro  affects  the  larger  situation.  He 
is  not  a  landlord.  He  must  rent  the  land  he  works,  and 
the  average  planter  needs  him  as  much  as  the  negro 
needs  the  land.  But  when  the  two  meet,  and  the  negro 
asks,  "What  are  you  going  to  pay  me  for  working  your 
land  ?"  the  planter  can  only  reply,  "  Cotton,"  because 
corn  won't  sell  in  the  first  place,  and  in  the  second 
place  the  negro  likes  cotton,  and  understands  the  hand- 

156 


ling  of  it  better  than  anx^thing  else  that  grows  in  the 
ground.  Furthermore,  to  understand  the  situation  fully, 
the  reader  needs  to  remember  that  there  are  a  great 
many  more  negroes  than  whites  in  Mississippi. 

The  Illinois  Central  Eailroad  has  come  into  a  lot  of 
rich  land  through  the  purchase  of  a  railvva^^  nearer  the 
great  river  than  its  main  line,  and  it  is  bringing  down  a 
great  many  Western  farmers,  who  do  not  go  there  for 
their  health  or  for  the  sake  of  the  scenery,  but  to  make 
money.  They  are  largely  from  Wisconsin,  Illinois,  and 
Iowa.  They  are  going  into  horse  -  raising,  dairying, 
trucking,  fruit-growing,  and  whatever  will  pay  best,  and 
they  will  exert  a  tremendous  influence  for  prosperity 
down  there.  But  on  the  hilly  Iknd  of  the  interior, 
where  the  railroad  influence  is  not  at  the  bottom  of  the 
immigration,  a  great  many  new-comers  are  seen  to  try 
cotton  first.  They  hear  that  they  can  get  land  for 
from  three  dollars  to  ten  dollars  an  acre,  and  that  they 
can  raise  a  bale  on  two  acres,  with  a  chance  of  getting 
$40  for  the  bale.  It  does  not  work.  There  is  too  much 
cotton.  It  brings  only  five  or  six  cents  a  pound,  and  it 
has  been  observed  that  under  eight  cents  the  planters 
do  not  pay  their  way.  Contrary  to  the  Carolina  expe- 
rience, the  bankers  of  Mississippi  declare  that  cotton 
costs  seven  and  a  half  cents  a  pound  for  the  raising. 
And  even  then  "  it  takes  thirteen  months  in  the  year  to 
raise  it,"  as  they  say  doAvn  there — meaning,  of  course, 
that  before  one  year's  crop  is  picked  the  planter  must 
be  preparing  for  the  next.  With  land  cheaper  than 
dirt  usually  is,  with  taxes  very  low  indeed,  with  a  com- 
bination of  soil  and  climate  fitted  for  the  growth  of 
every  product  of  the  temperate  zone,  and  many  others 
besides,  it  is  astonishing  that  the  State  does  not  fill  with 
earnest,  industrious  bidders  for  the  fortune  that  will  so 
surely  be  theirs  when  they  embrace  the  opportunity. 

158 


The  reader  may  say  that  there  must  be  some  important 
hinderance,  but  I  know  of  none.  The  white  people  are 
law-abiding  and  hospitable,  the  climate  is  healthful,  the 
heat  is  bv  no  means  unendurable  or  such  as  need  deter 


FORT  MASSACHUSETTS,  SHIP   ISLAND,  MISSISSIPPI 


a  Northern  man  from  going  there,  and,  indeed,  North- 
ern men  have  told  me  that  the  Northern  midsummer 
heat  is  far  more  trying.  The  only  problem  is  what  to 
do  with  the  negro  after  the  white  farmers  come  in,  but 
that  will  not  affect  any  white  man  Avho  goes  there  to 
work  for  himself.  The  negro  will  have  to  learn  to  work 
as  the  white  man  does,  or — but  that  is  his  concern. 

159 


OUR   OWN   RIVIERA 

WE  started  from  New  Orleans  to  enter  the  Flow- 
ery State  by  its  back  door.  In  New  Orleans 
the  peach  and  pear  trees  were  throwing 
sprays  of  delicate  color  across  many  a  view,  the  street 
boys  were  peddling  japonicas  and  garden  roses,  and  in 
the  woods  near  by  the  dogwood  and  the  jasmine  span- 
gled the  fresh  greenery  with  their  flowers.  On  our  way 
to  the  cars  we  read  a  Signal  Service  bulletin  announcing 
the  temperature  in  New  York  to  be  24°,  while  in  New 
Orleans  it  was  70°.  And  in  the  evening  newspaper  was 
word  that  a  party  of  well-nurtured  hoodlums  in  a  Con- 
necticut college  had  snowballed  an  actress  on  the  stage 
of  the  theatre  in  the  college  town.  Such  are  the  possi- 
bilities in  a  country  of  the  magnitude  of  ours,  and  they 
made  us  glad  that  we  were  going  even  farther  south. 

The  next  day  spied  the  train  in  Florida  making  its 
way  through  a  tedious  region  of  sand  and  pine  and 
swamp  and  cypress.  But  the  glorious  eye  of  day  was 
blazing  upon  the  cars,  so  that  it  turned  them  into  bake- 
ovens,  and  when  the  suffocating  passengers  opened  the 
Pullman  windows,  in  swept  the  fine,  insinuating,  chok- 
ing dust  of  Florida  in  such  clouds  that  I,  who  had 
started  in  black  clothing  in  Louisiana,  came  into  Florida 
looking  like  a  miller.  Indeed,  I  felt  like  that  particular 
miUer  of  the  Dee  about  whom  nobody  acknowledged 
any  concern.     As  is  so  often  the  case,  the  Pullman  con- 

160 


tainecl  a  passenger  who  talked  to  everybody  in  it,  and 
rendered  all  other  speech  vain  and  unprofitable. 

"  I'm  going  to  get  off  at  Tallahassee,"  said  he,  "  in 
order  to  drive  over  to  Thomasville,  Georgia.  Better 
stop  off  with  me  —  only  pretty  country  and  only  un- 
spoiled Southern  town  in  Florida.  Fact  is,  though  Tal- 
lahassee is  the  capital  of  the  State,  it  does  not  belong  in 
Florida.  Got  pushed  over  the  line  by  some  convulsion 
of  nature.  Stop  off,  and  you  will  not  be  sorry.  The 
conductor  will  give  you  a  stop-over  check." 

The  neighborhood  of  Tallahassee,  when  it  came  into 
view,  riveted  our  inclination  to  accept  this  semi-public 
advice.  Plantations,  inviting  Southern  country  houses, 
dense  banks  of  Cherokee  roses  in  bloom,  rolling  land,  a 
rich  chocolate  soil,  great  trees  whose  foliage  formed 
clouds  of  green — these  were  the  objects  that  took  the 
places  of  the  swamps,  and  of  the  monotonous  vistas  of 
slender  pines  struggling  in  sand.  We  stopped  at  Talla- 
hassee, and  in  the  main  street  of  the  picturesque  and 
comatose  old  village  w^e  met  that  which  attuned  our 
souls  for  all  that  we  were  to  enjoy  in  Florida — that  set 
our  thoughts  in  the  right  train.  It  was  the  regulation 
summer  maiden  of  the  North  that  w^e  encountered. 
There  she  strode,  in  white  kid  shoes,  with  a  white  sailor 
hat  on  her  head,  ribboned  with  white  satin.  She  was 
dressed  otherwise  in  a  blue  sailor  suit  trimmed  with 
white,  above  which  appeared  a  pert  face,  all  sun-dyed, 
beneath  a  mass  of  short  and  wavy  nut-brown  hair.  She 
was  so  precisely  like  herself  as  we  all  saw  her  at  Narra- 
gansett  Pier  in  the  previous  September  that  it  was  al- 
most possible  to  believe  she  had  been  walking  on  and  on 
southward  ever  since,  pursuing  the  summer  like  a  song- 
bird, or  perhaps  had  stopped  now  and  then  to  linger 
with  it  at  Asheville,  Charleston,  Savannah,  Thomasville, 
and  finally  there  at  Tallahassee.     She  paused  and  talked, 

L  161 


with  many  coquettish  httle  graces,  to  a  young  gentle- 
man who  met  her  on  the  pavement.  It  required  but  a 
little  further  play  of  fancy  to  imagine  that  he  was  urg- 
ing her  to  attend  some  dance  or  reception,  and  that  she 
was  saying,  just  as  she  used  to  say  every  day  last  au- 
tumn*. "I'll  go,  but  I  can't  dress,  you  know.  One  half 
of  my  arms  doesn't  match  the  other  half,  and  my  face 
and  my  neck  are  at  odds ;  I'm  so  shockingly  sunburnt, 
you  know."  That  vision  of  the  summer  maiden  was  all 
that  was  needed  for  an  introduction  to  Florida.  The 
magic  of  it  shattered  our  touch  with  the  old  South.  It 
stood  us  face  to  face  with  the  Xorth  a-holidaying,  and 
that  makes  the  essence  of  life  in  what  the  hotel  men  de- 
light to  call  "  the  American  Riviera." 

When  my  companion,  Mr.  S medley,  and  I  reached  our 
rooms  in  the  cheerful  hotel  in  the  heart  of  the  town,  we 
found  awaiting  us  a  great  shallow  dish  of  japonica,  rose, 
and  violet  blossoms.  Having  seen  an  even  larger  tray 
of  flowers  in  the  office  of  the  house,  we  inquired  whence 
they  came,  and  found  that  they  were  sent  by  the  ladies 
of  the  town  to  the  ladies  of  the  hotel.  This  was  not 
only  a  pretty  custom,  and  a  positive  proof  that  Florida 
deserves  its  name,  but  it  showed  that  for  perhaps  the 
first  time  in  our  liv^es  we  were  domiciled  in  a  pleasure 
resort  wherein  the  people  had  not  been  demoralized  by 
so  strong  a  desire  for  gain  that  all  kindlier  human  im- 
pulses were  crowded  out  of  their  lives.  This  ])leasant 
belief  was  strengthened  when  we  went  into  the  town  to 
shop,  and  found  the  prices  generally  moderate.  A  horse 
and  carriage  may  be  had,  with  a  driver,  for  three  dollars 
a  day,  and  in  a  comfortable  vehicle  we  rolled  through 
the  old  town,  noting,  by  its  own  hills  and  those  around 
it,  that  it  was  in  a  rich  rolling  country,  and  by  its  heavy 
Grecian  -  looking  town  houses  and  its  cool  embowered 
country  houses  that  many  relics  of  the  time  when  it  was 

162 


yL 


"SHE   PAUSED   AND   TALKED,  WITH    MANY   COQUKTTISH   LITTLE   GRACES" 


the  seat  of  a  wealthy  aristocracy  still  remained.  Of 
trees  and  flowers  I  never  saw  more  or  better  in  any 
country  town  even  in  England.  The  oaks,  always  the 
handsomest  trees  in  the  South,  were  here  magnificent, 
and  around  them  were  mulberries,  gum-trees,  magnolias, 
palmettoes,  figs,  China  -  berries,  pines,  and  many  other 
sorts  of  trees.  Great  balls  of  mistletoe  grew  on  lofty 
branches,  banks  of  Cherokee  roses  blossomed  by  the 
road-sides,  the  door-yards  Avere  gay  with  old-fashioned 
flowers,  and  the  gardens  showed  manifold  rows  of  lux- 
uriant peach  and  pear  trees,  as  well  as  dried  and  faded 
banana-palms.  Seeing  the  graves  of  the  "  Princess  C. 
A.  Murat,"  and  of  her  husband,  "Colonel  Charles  Louis 
Napoleon  Achille  Murat,  son  of  the  King  of  Naples," 
in  the  green  and  white  graveyard,  led  us  to  drive  out  to 
what  is  called  Prince  Murat's  house,  on  the  outskirts  of 
the  town.  It  was  little  to  see — a  mere  one-and-a-half- 
storied  frame  house  with  a  sloping  roof,  exterior  chim- 
neys, and  a  broad  porch.  And  the  whole  was  falling 
into  ruin,  inhabited  by  a  negro  man  and  woman,  and 
set  in  a  garden  wherein  the  weeds  have  all  but  choked 
the  few  ornamental  plants  and  bushes  which  once 
graced  the  scene. 

Upon  returning  to  town  I  learned  that  in  truth  the 
prince  lived  in  that  house  only  a  short  time,  though  his 
widow,  who  survived  him  twenty  years,  made  it  her 
home.  His  true  home  in  this  country  had  been  upon  his 
plantation,  a  few  miles  from  the  capital.  Poor  man ! 
his  fame  even  in  Tallahassee  has  degenerated  into  a  rec- 
ollection of  his  eccentricities,  and  he  is  remembered  to 
have  eaten  crow,  and  to  have  tried  to  eat  buzzard.  It  is 
also  recalled  that  he  once  discovered  a  dye,  and  dyed  all 
his  wife's  gowns  before  she  reached  home  one  day ;  also 
that  he,  for  some  reason,  induced  his  slaves  to  eat  cherry- 
tree  sawdust,  and  was  nearly  the  death  of  them   all. 

16^ 


He  deserves  a  far  more  dignified  echo  of  his  existence, 
for  in  his  portrait  on  the  walls  of  the  town  library  he  is 
seen  to  have  been  a  man  of  intellectual  and  forceful 
mien,  and  in  his  book,  or  rather  a  collection  of  his  let- 
ters made  into  a  book,  he  writes  himself  down  as  a  very 
observant  and  clear  -  headed  man,  reflective  and  broad, 
proud  of  citizenship  in  this  country,  and  able  to  speak  of 
himself  seldom,  and  only  with  modesty.  Writing  in 
1830-32,  in  the  course  of  some  remarks  upon  Washing- 
ton, he  includes  a  short  study  of  the  American  girl  of 
the  period,  one  that  will  not  now  be  considered  far 
amiss.  He  notes  that  "parents  seldom  oppose  their 
daughters  in  the  choice  of  a  husband ;  .  .  .  moreover,  the 
interference  of  parents  is  looked  upon  as  an  act  of  indis- 
cretion in  these  matters.  Nothing  can  be  more  happy 
than  the  lot  of  a  young  American  lady  from  the  age  of 
fifteen  to  twenty-five,  particularly  if  she  possesses  the  at- 
traction of  beauty  (which  they  generally  do).  She  be- 
comes the  idol  and  admiration  of  all ;  her  life  is  passed 
amid  festivities  and  pleasure ;  she  knows  no  contradic- 
tion to  mar  her  incUnations,  much  less  refusals.  She 
has  only  to  select  from  a  hundred  worshippers  the  one 
w^hom  she  considers  will  contribute  to  her  future  happi- 
ness in  life — for  here  all  marry,  and,  with  of  course  some 
exceptions,  all  are  happy." 

Another  note  of  even  wider  interest  the  prince  makes 
in  these  words :  "  It  is  only  a  few  years  since  that  waltz- 
ing was  proscribed  in  society,  and  only  Scotch  reels  and 
quadrilles  were  danced.  From  the  moment  of  its  intro- 
duction, the  waltz  was  looked  upon  as  most  indelicate, 
and,  in  fact,  an  outrage  on  female  delicacy.  Even  preach- 
ers denounced  in  public  the  circumstance  of  a  man  who 
was  neither  lover  nor  husband  encircling  the  waist  and 
whirling  the  lady  about  in  his  arms,  as  a  heinous  sin  and 
an  abomination." 

165 


"  Nobody  can  forget,"  writes  the  prince,  ''  the  arrival 
of  the  ballet  corps  in  New  York  from  Paris.  I  happened 
to  be  at  the  first  representation.  The  appearance  of 
dancers  in  short  petti(3oats-  created  an  indescribable  as- 
tonishment ;  but  at  the  first  '  pirouette,'  when  these  ap- 
pendages, charged  with  lead  at  the  extremities,  whirled 
round,  taking  a  horizontal  position,  such  a  noise  was 
created  in  the  theatre  that  I  question  Avhether  even  the 
uproar  at  one  of  Musard's  carnival  '  bals  infernals '  at 
Paris  could  equal  it.  The  ladies  screamed  out  for  very 
shame  and  left  the  theatre,  and  the  gentlemen  for  the 
most  part  remained,  crying  and  laughing  at  the  very 
fun  of  the  thing,  while  they  only  remarked  its  ridicu- 
lousness. They  had  yet  to  learn  and  admire  and  appre- 
ciate the  gracefulness  and  voluptuous  ease  of  a  Taglioni, 
Cerito,  and  a  Fanny  Elssler." 

The  time  I  spent  in  Tallahassee  I  never  shall  regret. 
It  is  a  pure  and  typical  Southern  capital,  with  very  many 
landmarks  and  mementos  of  a  proud  past  in  full  preser- 
vation. It  is  not  like  any  other  part  of  Florida,  for,  in 
fact,  it  is  a  great  piece  of  Georgia  soil  and  landscape, 
high,  wholesome,  picturesque,  hospitable,  and  quaintly 
old-fashioned.  The  climate  is  as  warm  as  any,  except 
that  of  the  southern  end  of  the  State,  and  yet  the  face 
of  nature  is  more  like  what  w^e  in  the  North  are  accus- 
tomed to  and  consider  beautiful. 

The  route  from  Tallahassee  to  Jacksonville  is  by  way 
of  pine-barrens  and  cypress  swamps,  and  even  in  winter 
was  found  to  be  exceedingly  hot  and  dusty,  as  all  rail- 
way travel  in  the  State  is  apt  to  be.  So  far  as  concerns 
whatever  of  settlement  and  civilization  is  seen,  it  is  a 
country  with  the  dry  -  rot.  Everything  that  is  in  use 
seems  patched  up ;  the  rest  is  tumbling  to  pieces.  The 
fences  are  tinkered  and  gaping;  the  unpainted  cabins 
are  dilapidated,  and  patched  with  whatever  was  hand- 

166 


ON  A  HOTEL  PORCH,  TALLAHASSEE 


iest  when  they  needed  repairing;  the  horses  or  mules 
and  oxen  are  hitched  to  weather-beaten  ploughs  with 
bits  of  rope  and  chain.  In  a  w^ord,  the  people  are  lazy, 
and,  as  they  best  express  it  in  the  South,  ''  shiftless." 

At  Jacksonville,  with  the  stopping  of  the  train,  we 
were  flung  into  the  watering  -  place  life  of  the  dog-days 

167 


in  the  Korth.  It  was  not  merely  the  summer  maiden 
that  we  found  there — though  her  sort  Avas  abundant — 
but  she  moved  amid  nearly  all  her  Northern  concomi- 
tants and  surroundings.  Jacksonville  might  easily  have 
been  mistaken  for  Long  Branch  in  July,  with  its  great 
hotels  illuminated  from  top  to  basement,  its  sounds  of 
dance  music  in  all  the  great  parlors,  and  its  array  of 
long  porches  crowded  with  ease-taking  men  and  w^omen 
in  flannels  and  tennis  caps  and  russet  slippers  and  gos- 
samer gowns.  We  stopped  at  the  well-managed  Wind- 
sor Hotel,  but  it  might  have  passed  for  the  West  End  or 
the  Rowland,  except  that  there  were  no  sounds  of  a 
near-b}^  heaving  sea.  The  Jacksonville  house  exhibited 
the  same  bevy  of  young  girls  clustered  before  the  clerk's 
desk  —  for  all  the  world  like  those  we  saw  at  Asbury 
Park  and  Long  Branch  in  midsummer — the  same  long, 
light-carpeted  parlor,  the  apparently  identical  semicircle 
of  scraping  musicians  half  enclosing  a  piano,  the  same 
old  ladies  and  plain  girls  in  the  glare  of  light  on  the 
porches,  while  the  prettiest  girls  were  all  in  the  darker 
corners  and  places.  There  were  the  same  laughter  and 
chatter,  and  rollicking  semi -grown  children;  the  same 
aimless  but  happy  couples  keeping  slow-measured  tread 
on  the  pavements ;  the  frames  of  staring  pliotographs, 
the  nickel -in -the -slot  machines,  the  shops  full  of  gim- 
crack  souvenirs  made  in  Germany  and  New  York,  the 
peanuts  and  soda-water,  the  odor  of  perfumery,  the  rus- 
tle of  silks,  the  peeping  slippers — the  very  same ;  all  the 
same. 

And  in  the  morning  the  chief  attraction  of  Florida 
made  itself  felt  as  it  had  not  done  before.  It  was  the 
heat  of  summer  in  Lent,  the  warm  sun  which  blazed  in 
the  bedroom  Avindows  and  roused  at  least  one  sleeper 
Avith  that  close,  confined,  sticky  feeling  that  Ave  all  knoAv 
too  Avell  in  JulA^    It  Avas  too  cool  on  the  piazzas,  for  that 

168 


tropical  condition  obtains  there  which  produces  a  breeze 
that  may  not  be  felt  in  the  sun,  and  yet  is  almost  chill}^ 
in  the  shade.  In  that  Avarmth,  wholly  apart  from  any 
attractions  of  scene  or  sport,  is  the  secret  of  the  peopling 
of  Florida  by  ^'ortherners  in  the  wmter  months,  of  the 
transformation  of  one  of  the  United  States  into  a  pleas- 
ure-park and  loafing-place  during  three  months  of  each 
year.  The  official  records  show  that  during  those  months 
the  mean  temperature  varies,  in  the  different  parts  of 
the  State,  between  56°  and  70°  Fahrenheit.  There  is 
not,  I  am  assured,  an}^  part  of  the  State  which  is  abso- 
lutely exempt  from  frost,  but  it  is  an  unfamiliar  visitor, 
and  with  the  general  warmth  comes  a  royal  proportion 
of  clear  days  —  a  general  av^erage  of  twenty -four  fine 
days  in  each  month  between  December  and  May  in  all 
parts  of  the  State.  In  March  the  average  is  about 
twenty-seven  days,  and  in  April  twent3^-six.  I  held  the 
common  impression  that  the  State  was  resorted  to  as  a 
sanitarium ;  but  when,  after  several  days  in  Tallahassee 
and  Jacksonville,  I  had  seen  but  few  persons  who  had 
the  appearance  of  being  victims  of  any  lung  disease,  I 
altered  my  opinion.  It  was  the  resort  of  invalids  for 
many  years,  it  seems,  but  those  who  spent  their  winters 
there  now  go  to  the  so-called  piny-woods  and  mountain 
resorts  of  Georgia  and  the  Carolinas. 

Florida  has  become  a  resting-place  for  those  who  can 
afford  to  loaf  at  the  busiest  time  in  the  year — the  men 
who  have  "  made  their  piles,"  or  organized  their  busi- 
ness to  run  automatically.  As  a  rule,  they  are  beyond 
the  middle  age  and  of  comfortable  figures.  It  is  within 
the  mark  to  say  that  each  of  these  men  brings  two 
women  with  him — his  wife  and  a  daughter,  or  a  sister 
or  a  niece.  I  frequently  counted  the  persons  around 
me  at  the  hotels  in  the  larger  resorts,  and  never  once 
found  as  many  men  as  women ;  there  were  more  often 

169 


three  tlian  two  women  to  a  man.  Of  young  men  who 
should  be  at  work,  and  boys  and  girls  who  should  be  at 
school,  there  were  few  to  be  seen.  In  some  places,  as 
in  the  big  hotels  at  St.  Augustine,  it  struck  me  that  the 
young  women  must  find  it  rather  dull  where  young- 
men  were  so  few. 

If  what  is  said  of  the  present  frequenters  of  Florida 
creates  the  impression  that  it  is  only  the  rich  Avho  form 
the  winter  colony,  it  is  necessary  to  add  that  this  is  not 
the  case.  In  all  the  large  towns  there  are  many  hotels 
in  which  board  can  be  had  for  two  dollars  a  day,  and  in 
almost  all  the  towns  there  are  hotels  and  boarding- 
houses  that  are  frequented  by  those  who  pay  only  eight 
or  ten  dollars  a  week..  An  unexpected  peculiarity  of 
the  great  watering-place  is  that  it  is  growing  to  be 
more  and  more  the  custom  for  the  winter  visitors  to 
spend  a  large  part  of  their  time  in  travelling.  Few 
miss  the  great  Alameda  group  of  palatial  hotels  in  the 
quaint  old  village  of  St.  Augustine;  many  cross  the 
State  to  the  very  promising  port  of  Tampa,  with  its 
superb  hotel ;  others  travel  the  erratic  and  the  scenic 
rivers,  visit  the  phosphate  district,  the  tarpon  grounds, 
the  almost  tropical  section  at  Lake  Worth,  and  as  many 
as  they  care  to  of  the  four  or  five  score  settlements  and 
resorts  of  more  or  less  note  that  lie  along  these  routes.. 
This  is  the  thing  to  do  in  Florida,  although  my  experi- 
ence in  buying  railway  tickets  in  that  State  led  me  to 
regard  it  as  a  practice  calculated  to  humble  the  rich 
more  speedily  than  any  anarchist  plan  of  which  I  had 
ever  heard. 

Jacksonville  is  the  busiest  place  in  Florida,  and  the 
starting-point  for  most  tours.  I^early  all  comers  by 
rail  or  ship  from  the  North  pay  toll  to  it.  From  the 
porch  of  the  Windsor  they  see  the  first  orange  -  trees ; 
in  the  streets  they  hear  a  whole  choir  of  caged  mocking- 

170 


WHILE   THE   PRETTIEST   GIliLS   WEUE  ALL    IN   THE   DAItKEil 

corners" 


birds ;  palmettoes,  bananas,  and  a  wealth  of  flowers  em- 
bellish many  of  the  views  about  town ;  and  the  lazy, 
luxurious  holiday  life  at  the  almost  always  crowded 
hotels  sounds  the  key-note  of  the  general  spirit  of  the 
winter  population.  The  main  street  is  fit  to  be  called 
Alligator  Avenue,  because  of  the  myriad  ways  in  which 
that  animal  is  offered  as  a  sacrifice  to  the  curiosity  and 
thoughtlessness  of  the  crowds.  I  did  not  happen  to  see 
any  alligators  served  on  toast  there,  but  I  saw  them 
stuffed  and  skinned,  turned  into  bags,  or  kept  in  tanks 
and  boxes  and  cages ;  their  babies  made  into  ornaments 
or  on  sale  as  toys ;  their  claws  used  as  purses,  their  teeth 
as  jewelry,  their  eggs  as  curios.  Figures  of  them  were 
carved  on  canes,  moulded  on  souvenir  spoons,  painted  on 
chma,  and  sold  in  the  forms  of  photographs,  water-color 
studies,  breastpins,  and  carvings.  1  could  not,  for  the 
life  of  me,  help  thinking  of  the  fate  of  the  buffalo  every 
time  I  walked  that  street. 

The  true  Southern  negro  abounds  in  the  city,  and  is 
a  never-ceasing  source  of  amusement  and'  interest. 
Among  them  all  not  any  are  more  peculiar  than  the 
hackmen,  who  drive  slowly  up  and  down  before  the 
hotels,  calling  out  to  the  boarders.  "  I'd  just  as  lieve 
drive  you  as  Yanderbilt,"  said  one.  "  Dere  ain't  no 
bars  put  up  agin  any  one  what  can  pay  de  price." 
Then  the  next  one  halts  his  team  and  says,  in  a  general 
public  address  directed  to  no  one  in  particular  :  ^'  Lend 
me  a  dime,  an'  I'll  pay  you  back  or  sing  you  a  song.  I 
know  lots  of  songs,  and  when  I  open  my  mouth  you'll 
think  I  either  got  music  or  delirium  tremens."  The 
market  also  is  very  interesting.  It  slightly  suggests  a 
corner  in  some  old  French  city.  The  display  of  fish, 
vegetables,  and  fruit  is  both  gorgeous  and  appetizing. 
On  the  market  wharf  the  tourist  may  see  a  policeman 
in  a  New  York  uniform,  a  ferry-boat  from  ^evr  York 

172 


crossing  the  river,  and  a  New  York  river  boat  lying  at 
a  neighboring  pier. 

In  a  glance  at  the  principal  tours  of  the  winter 
visitors  to  Florida  the  short  one  to  St.  Augustine  must 
be  considered  first.  The  great  Capitol  at  Washington, 
the  State  Capitol  at  Albany,  and  the  Equitable  Build- 
ing in  New  York  are  the  most  costly  houses  in  America. 
These  were  the  subjects  of  a  far  greater  outlay  than 
the  Flagler  group  of  St.  Augustine  hotels,  but  their 
cost  is  not  uppermost  in  the  minds  of  those  who  spend 
much  time  in  them.  I  know  of  no  place,  public  or 
private,  where  the  power  of  wealth  so  impresses  itself 
upon  the  mind  as  at  this  group  of  Florida  hotels.  It  is 
not  because  the  owner's  constant  presence  brings  mill- 
ions to  the  mind,  or  that  he  is  known  to  have  made  his 
own  way,  and  is  said  to  have  brought  his  dinner  to  his 
office  with  him  every  day  until  he  was  worth  a  million. 
It  is  the  spot  itself — the  finding  of  a  group  of  palaces 
in  such  strong  contrast  with  all  the  rest  in  Florida.  It 
is  the  change  from  a  field  where  the  other  charms  are 
all  natural  to  a  mass  of  beauties  that  are  made  by  hand. 
To  liv^e  in  the  Ponce  de  Leon  is  as  if  we  had  been  in- 
vited to  stop  at  a  royal  palace.  It  is  as  if  a  modern 
Haroun-al-Raschid,  in  order  the  better  to  study  his  peo- 
ple, had  turned  his  royal  residence  into  a  hotel.  And, 
after  all,  that  would  be  but  little  more  unexpected  than 
that  a  many-millionaire  should  use  his  means  in  this 
way.  It  is  said  of  the  proprietor  (than  whom  there  is 
no  more  unassuming  boarder  in  the  building)  that  the 
reading  which  most  impressed  him  in  his  youth  was 
tales  of  Spanish  affluence  and  history  and  adventure. 
When  the  day  came  that  he  could  build  a  great  struct- 
ure, the  Spanish  types  were  the  only  ones  that  were  in 
his  mind.  Upon  the  first  crude  idea  of  constructing 
something  that  should  celebrate  the  beauties  of  Spanish 

173 


architecture  grew  the  plan  for  a  hoteL  The  after- 
thought became  the  prime  impulse,  and  was  allowed  its 
way. 

It  is  said  that  a  famous  writer  remarked  that  he  had 
not  the  ability  to  describe  the  Ponce  de  Leon  and  its  out- 
look upon  the  luxurious  court  and  park,  and  opposing 
Cordova  and  Alcazar  hotels.  I  see  here  no  excuse  for 
trying  a  hand  upon  it  at  this  late  day.  It  is  its  general 
effect,  rather  than  its  details,  tliat  charms  the  beholder, 
and  that  effect  can  be  expressed  in  a  sentence — it  is  a 
melody  or  a  poem  in  gray  and  red  and  green.  The 
pearl-gray  walls  of  shell-stone  lift  their  cool  sides  be- 
tween billows  of  foliage  and  masses  of  bright  red  tiling. 
The  graceful  towers,  quaint  dormer-windows,  airy  log- 
gias, and  jewel-like  settings  of  stained  glass,  like  the 
palms  and  the  fountains  and  galleries,  all  melt,  unnoted, 
into  the  main  effect.  It  is  all  too  fine  for  some  persons, 
too  dear  for  others,  too  artificial  for  others,  and  for  an- 
other class  not  sufficiently  restful.  Many  find  the  life 
there  too  closely  like  what  they  left  behind  in  New 
York,  or  they  see  there  the  same  club  and  business 
friends  from  whom  they  wish  to  get  away.  Al-Easchid 
could  not  please  every  one  if  he  gave  away  his  wealth 
and  sceptre,  and  even  his  clothes.  I  was  so  perfectly 
content  and  thoroughly  fascinated  in  the  week  I  lived 
there  that  the  place  seemed  all-sufficient.  Yet  when  I 
went  to  another  resort,  and  saw  a  green  and  white  coun- 
try hotel  in  a  shady  grove  beside  a  cool  river,  and  ob- 
served the  men  and  women  in  the  refreshing  undress  of 
flannels  and  soft  hats,  I  confess  that  my  heart  went  out 
to  the  old,  old  joy  of  country  rest  and  quiet  and  uncon- 
cern. 

But,  for  a  time,  it  was  pleasant  to  elbow  the  rich  and 
watch  the  fashionable,  to  see  the  gowns  and  turnouts,  to 
hear  the  small  talk,  and  now  and  then  to  have  a  tete-d- 

174 


tete  with  a  dressy  woman,  and  to  find  that  she  could  re- 
peat the  pretty  prattUngs  of  her  babe  recorded  in  the 
last  of  a  grandma's  letters  ;  or  to  sit  with  a  very  wealthy 
.man,  as  I  did,  and  hear  him  exclaim  :  "Don't  lay  any 
stress  on  wealth ;  there's  nothing  in  it.  I  have,  it,  and  I 
tell  you  I  would  rather  have  a  college  education  and 
enough  to  live  in  plain  comfort  than  to  hold  on  to  my 
millions.  I  only  give  away  my  surplus.  All  the  world 
seems  banded  to  get  it  away  from  me,  and  it  does  me 
little  good.  Give  your  boys  an  education  ;  you  will  be 
kinder  than  if  you  gave  them  riches." 

This  was  an  unlooked-for  note  to  be  sounded  in  a  house 
where  a  woman  and  her  lady  friend  and  maid  were  pay- 
ing $39  a  day  for  rooms  and  meals ;  where  an  Astor 
and  his  bride  had  paid  the  same  sum  per  day  during  a ' 
week  of  their  honey -moon  ;  where  one  lady  took  a  room 
solely  for  her  trunks  at  $10  a  day ;  and  where  an  eco- 
nomical young  Avoman  told  me  that  she  was  filling  her 
mother's  closets  and  her  own  w^ith  dresses,  while  the 
mother  put  her  things  on  the  chairs.  "  Mamma  has  had 
her  day,  you  know,"  said  the  maiden,  "and  she  doesn't 
care." 

There  was  one  little  party  that  occupied  three  bed- 
rooms, a  bath-room,  and  a  parlor,  taking  up  a  whole 
corner  of  the  house  on  the  ground-floor,  whose  bill  at 
the  hotel  might  easily  have  been  $75  a  day.  And  in  all 
these  instances  the  extras  are  lost  sight  of — the  $5  to 
the  head  waiter,  the  $2  or  $3  a  week  to  the  waiter  at 
table,  the  fees  to  the  bell-boys  and  the  ice-water  boy  and 
bootblack.  I  noted,  though,  that  these  minor  expenses 
are  variously  met.  In  modest  Jacksonville  I  saw  a  man 
meet  them  cheaply,  and  yet  with  a  flourish.  He  was 
leaving.  "  How  many  boys  are  there  here  ?"  he  asked. 
"  Nine,  sir."  "  Then  call  them  all  up— all  of  them,"  said 
the  man,  and  he  handed  to  each  one  a  dime.    It  was  done 

176 


so  that  it  seemed  as  if  he  might  be  giving  double  eagles  in- 
stead of  dimes.  I  doubt  whether  the  High  Chief  Almo- 
ner of  England  hands  out  shillings  in  the  Queen's  name 
to  poor  old  women  with  more  of  an  air.  Then,  again,  I 
was  in  one  hotel  in  Florida  where  a  rich  man  brought  his 
own  wines,  and  actually  sent  his  own  coffee  into  the 
kitchen  to  be  brewed.  And  in  yet  another  hotel  I  was 
asked  to  swell  a  purse  that  was  being  raised  for  the  cook. 
But,  despite  all  this,  a  modest  and  contented  man  may 
live  in  Florida,  and  even  hobnob  with  millionaires  at  the 
Ponce  de  Leon,  upon  $5  per  diem. 

Out  in  the  fairylike  court  of  that  most  beautiful 
hotel,  where  the  lights  in  the  windows  met  the  lights  lit- 
tered on  the  ground  beneath  the  greenery,  I  heard  a  gen- 
tleman and  maiden  approach  and  meet  and  actually  solve 
the  problem  of  the  perpetual  summer  girl's  existence. 

"  We  came  down  to  Old  Point  Comfort  after  leaving* 
Newport,"  said  she,  "  and  then  we  went  to  Asheville. 
Then  we  were  at  New  Orleans  on  mardi  grasP 

"  And  when  do  you  ever  go  home  ?"  the  man  inquired. 

"  Oh,"  said  the  girl,  in  surprise,  "  why,  we  ahvays 
spend  Christmas  at  home." 

There  was  also  a  rich  mother  who,  talking  in  the 
presence  of  her  daughter,  said  to  me  that  she  held  very 
old-fashioned  notions  about  young  girls.  "I  still  be- 
lieve in  love,"  said  she.  "  I  think  a  girl  should  marry 
only  for  love,  and  that  she  had  better  choose  an  ambi- 
tious, promising  young  man  with  success  ahead  of  him 
than  mere  wealth  with  an  elderly  man  or  a  brainless 
money  -  bag.  Such  marriages  are  the  most  unhappy 
ones.  Ah,  me !  I  am  sure  if  I  were  a  young  girl  I 
could  be  happy  in  a  tiny  house  in  a  village  if  I  were 
with  the  choice  of  my  heart." 

The  daughter  listened  stiffly  at  first.     Then  her  face 
beamed,  and  a  ripple  of  laughter  escaped  her. 
M  177 


"  Mamma,"  said  she,  "  your  love-in-a-cottage  ideas  are 
out  of  style.  I  am  thoroughly  modern — up  to  dsite—Jl?i 
de  siecle.     Your  notions  are  pretty,  but  they  donH  go.'''' 

Then  the  maiden  turned  to  me,  as  being  one  who 
could  sympathize  with  her,  she  thought,  and  said :  "  I 
want  to  live  in  one  of  the  world's  capitals,  where  they 
have  grand  opera,  and  miles  of  swell  carriages,  and  a 
distinguished  society,  and — and — where  something  hap- 
pens every  night.  I  am  dreadfully  miserable  when 
there's  nothing  going  on.  Mamma,  do  3^ou  remember 
the  night  in  Vienna  last  winter  when  we  neither  of  us 
knew  what  on  earth  to  do  f' 

To  sum  up  the  impression  St.  Augustine  made  upon 
nie,  it  seems  that  nearly  every  taste  may  be  grati- 
fied there.  The  quaint  old  cit}^,  with  some  streets  that 
are  too  narrow  for  pavements,  and  a  score  of  ancient 
houses  that  would  be  notable  anywhere  else,  is  in  itself 
a  joy.  The  fishing  is  good ;  the  sailing  on  the  almost 
constantly  sunlit,  ever-breezy  river  is  better.  The  driv- 
ing and  horseback •  rides  are  pleasant;  there  are  coun- 
try w^alks  and  orange  groves.  The  old  fort  is  never  less 
than  picturesque,  and  it  is  prized  by  lovers  almost  above 
a  certain  leafy  terrace  at  West  Point.  There  are  tennis 
and  bathing  and  shopping.  Concerts  and  dances  and 
exhibitions  are  frequent.  All  these  and  more  are  for. 
the  active.  For  the  indolent  and  idle  there  are  the  log- 
gias and  the  lobbies  of  the  big  hotels,  with  music  every 
evening,  and  a  grand  panorama  of  life  all  the  time. 

Whoever  likes  all  this  can  have  it  over  again,  with 
some  new  conditions,  at  Tampa,  where  Mr.  H.  B.  Plant, 
the  express  and  steamship  operator,  maintains  another 
grand  and  enormous  hotel  —  Moorish  in  design  in  this 
instance.  Its  beautiful  and  often  historic  furniture,  fine 
pictures,  gay  crowds,  very  notable  table,  excellent  music, 
and  Gulf -side  views  make  it  easily  the  second  of  the 

178 


leading  resorts  of  Florida.  Here,  too,  nature  is  adorned 
by  artistic  gardening,  and  the  hours  may  be  spent  in 
riding,  dancing,  fishing,  boating,  and  loafing.  "The 
Inn,"  above  the  water,  on  a  grand  pier  that  is  at  once 
the  terminus  of  a  railway  and  steamship  line,  is  not  too 
far  distant  to  be  easily  reached,  and  visitors  there  enjoy 
fine  fishing,  good  fare,  music,  and  delightful  air  and 
views.  The  town  of  Tampa,  across  the  river  from  the 
great  hotel,  should  be  visited,  not  only  because  it  is  a 
historic  spot  and  the  seat  of  a  notable  cigar  industry, 
but  because  it  is  predicted  that  it  will  become  a  great 
port  for  the  shipment  of  the  future  phosphate  yield  and 
of  those  other  products  of  the  State  which  seem  prom- 
ising. 

A  very  pleasant  journey  which  no  Florida  tourist 
should  miss  is  that  up  the  St.  Johns  Kiver  by  boat 
from  Jacksonville  to  Sanford.  The  steamer  City  of 
Jacksonville  and  her  capain,  William  A.  Shaw,  are 
among  the  very  best  of  their  kinds,  and  whosoever  ac- 
companies them  will  find  by  the  time  the  pretty  part  of 
the  river  is  reached,  above  Palatka,  the  passengers  will 
have  been  brought  together  into  something  like  a  fam- 
ily circle,  on  good  terms  with  one  another,  and  with  the 
captain  as  the  recognized  head  and  well-spring  of  con- 
stant entertainment.  He  is  a  salt-water  sailor,  and  has 
often  taken  his  frail-looking  but  really  stanch  boat  to 
New  York  and  back  upon  the  ocean.  The  recollection 
of  these  venturesome  deep-water  journeys  lingers  upon 
the  steamboat  in  the  uniform  of  the  master,  the  ringing 
of  a  ship's  bell  to  note  the  passing  hours,  and  in  the 
maintenance  of  a  captain's  table  in  the  dining -hall, 
w^hereat  the  prettiest  ladies  and  the  most  distinguished 
men  find  places.  Far  from  carrying  a  trumpet  through 
which  to  bellow  his  orders.  Captain  Shaw  adopts  w^hat 
I  may  call  a  confidential  course  with  his  subordinates. 

180 


The  two  black  pilots,  working  together  at  the  wheel  like 
double  song-and-dance  men,  leave  the  windows  of  their 
house  open  to  catch  his  softest  tones,  and  soft  tones  are 
all  they  ever  get,  even  Avhen  he  swears  at  them.  "  Stop 
port,"  he  says,  lightly,  over  his  shoulder.  "  Back  port. 
Start  both  engines.  ITook  her  up.  Stop  both."  It  is 
the  perfect  way  of  managing  a  business,  and  one  gath- 
ers the  thought  that  if  his  boat  were  in  a  hurricane  at 
sea,  the  passengers  would  never  hear  any  other  tone  in 
the  captain's  voice  than  that  in  which  he  asks  the  near- 
est lady  to  him  at  his  table  whether  she  will  not  help 
herself  to  the  celery. 

The  one  apparent  purpose  of  all  who  journey  by  boat 
to  Florida  is  to  see  alligators,  and  to  keep  account  of 
the  number  they  have  seen,  as  desperate  Indians  in  yel- 
low-covered books  tote  up  the  sum  of  the  scalps  they 
have  lifted.  At  first  the  St.  Johns  Eiver  is  of  the  broad 
type  of  rioridian  streams — a  wide  expanse  of  fretted 
blue  walled  in  tamely  with  banks  of  low  vegetation. 
There  are  only  two  types,  that  and  the  tortuous  narrow 
sort,  running  like  leafy  lanes  in  cramped  ribbons,  hedged 
close  by  trees.  It  is  when  the  St.  Johns  is  compressed 
and  squeezed  until  it  wriggles  like  a  landed  eel  that 
the  search  for  'gators  begins.  I  had  never  seen  a  wild 
alligator  at  large  when  I  made  the  voyage,  and,  to 
tell  the  truth,  I  had  seen  so  many  others  like  me,  and 
such  signs  of  a  general  slaughter  of  the  saurians,  their 
babies,  and  even  their  eggs,  that  I  fancied  I  might  leave 
Florida  with  the  luck  of  one  who  goes  to  Dakota  to 
get  a  shot  at  a  buffalo.  But  I  was  wrong.  Not  all 
the  alligators  are  killed  yet,  though  that  consummation 
is  not  far  off  in  the  older  parts  of  Florida.  When  we 
came  to  the  narrow  end  of  the  river  we  saw  plenty 
of  the  amphibians,  and  discovered  also  that  they  are 
apparently    the   only   things   that   induce   the   captain 

181 


to  raise  his  voice  and  to  betray  an  inward  excite- 
ment. 

"Alligator  on  the  left  bank!  Quick  I"  he  shouted  to 
all  the  passengers.  *'  Alligator — big  one — on  the  left 
bank,  close  ahead  I" 

Sure  enough,  there  was  the  huge  lizard  -  like  animal 
upon  the  low  bank,  between  the  water  and  the  trees, 
where  he  had  been  basking  until  the  a])proach  of  the 
boat  aroused  him.  Already,  with  a  snakish  motion,  he 
was  moving  towards  the  river,  his  head  sweeping  in  one 
direction,  and  his  thick  strong  tail  in  the  other.  There 
was  time  to  see  that  he  was  ten  feet  long,  and  to  won- 
der how  the  captain  detected  a  thing  so  nearly  the  color 
of  the  earth  it  rested  upon,  when,  with  a  graceful  giant 
wriggle,  the  beast  slipped  into  the  river  and  showed  us 
only  a  black  snout  and  two  bumplike  eyes  rippling  the 
surface  of  the  stream. 

There  were  some  persons  among  the  passengers  who 
all  but  raved  with  delight  over  the  beauty  of  the  scen- 
ery in  the  narrow  part  of  the  river.  Pretty  it  is,  but 
not  extremely  beautiful,  and  the  extravagant  expressions 
of  those  who  find  extreme  beauty  where  others  see  only 
tameness,  or,  at  the  utmost,  mere  prettiness,  inspire 
compassion  for  all  who  live  where  nature  is  ill-favored 
or  tedious,  as  on  the  plains,  for  instance.  The  St.  Johns 
\Vas  here  a  pretty  winding  stream,  curving  amid  more 
or  less  dense  growths  of  oak,  cypress,  and  palmetto. 
Spanish-moss  hung  its  greenish-gray  tails  upon  many  of 
the  trees,  and  augmented  the  strangeness  of  the  scen- 
ery ;  for  strange  it  would  seem  to  any  American  from 
beyond  the  few  States  that  border  the  Gulf  of  Mexico. 
It  got  its  prettiness  from  the  fresh  new  green  that  nat- 
ure was  lavishing  upon  the  trees  and  the  undergrowth. 
So  narrow  Avas  the  stream  that  the  boat  was  seen  to 
push  the  water  ahead  of  it,  and  to  suck  a  great  billow 

182 


f^^s^r^ 


LI'ajie  aiti. 


PRESIDENT  CLEVELAND  RECEIVING 


DANCE  AT  THE  POXCE  DE  LEON 


along  behind  it  —  a  billow  that  crashed  upon  the  low 
banks  and  hurried  the  cows  ashore,  the  buzzards  to 
flight,  and  the  turtles  and  alligators  off  their  resting- 
places.  The  experience  suggested  steamboating  on  some 
crooked  narrow  route  like  Pearl  Street  in  New  York  ; 
but  sometimes  the  loops  in  the  stream  were  so  sharp 
that  steamers  making  the  same  course  appeared  to  be, 
and  were,  going  in  opposite  directions.  The  turtles 
were  amusing.  Sometimes  half  a  dozen  Avould  drop 
from  a  projecting  log  to  fall  upon  their  backs  and 
scramble  wildly  into  correct  positions.  Lazy  and  beau- 
tiful cranes  were  seen  at  times,  and  the  boat  passed 
many  buzzard  roosts,  where  the  great  ugly  birds  were 
seen  stalking  awkwardly  on  the  earth,  or  roosting  like 
turkeys  on  the  tree  limbs.  I  saw  eleven  alligators, 
man}^  of  them  very  large.  One  favored  me  with  an 
exhibition  of  his  pedestrianism  by  turning  into  the 
woods  instead  of  the  water.  It  was  worth  seeing.  He 
lifted  his  head  and  six-sevenths  of  his  tail  above  the 
ground  upon  ungainly  legs  that  stood  out  from  his  body 
almost  like  a  spider's  limbs.  Then  he  walked  as  if  he 
had  not  learned  how.  The  customary  man  with  a  gun, 
and  with  a  general  and  all-embracing  ambition  to  mur- 
der something,  had  come  upon  the  boat  to  kill  an  alli- 
gator. This  he  was  forbidden  to  do,  and  I  think  I  am 
right  in  saying  that  from  no  steamboat  running  in  Flor- 
ida is  shooting  now  permitted.  The  captain  explained 
why  this  was  when  he  said, ''  If  passengers  were  allowed 
to  shoot,  they  would  be  apt  to  alarm  or  anger  the  peo- 
ple ashore,  and  some  of  the  crackers  would  be  sure  to 
turn  and  send  a  fusillade  of  buckshot  into  the  boat." 
Those  who  have  followed  my  experiences  in  other  parts 
of  the  South  will  be  interested  in  this  further  proof  of 
the  fact  that  steamboating  there  is  not  unlike  managing 
a  travelling  target  for  buckshot. 

184 


I  have  spoken  elsewhere  of  the  black  laborers  on  the 
Southern  boats,  and  have  put  stress  upon  the  fact  that 
I  never  saw  white  men  work  as  hard  as  these  negroes 
do,  urged  constantly  as  they  are  by  the  white  mates  of 
the  vessels.  But  the  labor  I  saw  performed  on  the 
Mississippi  and  on  the  bayous  in  Louisiana  was  feeble 
beside  that  which  was  obtained  from  the  crew  on  this 
St.  Johns  Kiver  steamboat.  The  negroes  on  this  boat 
were  very  much  superior  to  the  dull -eyed,  shambling, 
and  stolid  hands  of  the  other  Southern  States.  These 
were  comparatively  fine  fellows,  full  of  ambition  and 
energy,  with  intelligence  quickening  in  their  faces,  well 
clad,  and,  I  think,  less  given  to  demoralizing  holiday 
habits  than  the  others.  I  never  saw  any  men  work  so 
hard.  They  moved  the  freight  on  those  heavy  small- 
wheeled  tracks  that  are  in  use  at  all  railway  stations, 
and  they  literally  flung  these  vehicles  and  themselves 
up  and  down  the  steep  gang-planks  at  each  landing. 
They  never  walked.  They  ran,  whether  they  were 
going  loaded  or  returning  light.  They  shd  down 
the  gang-planks  like  men  on  an  ice  slide,  and  they 
bounced  up  the  sharp  incline  with  such  force  that  it 
seemed  a  miracle  that  saved  the  heavy  trucks  from 
breaking  apart.  The  hollow  iron  hull  of  the  steamer 
roared  like  a  drum  as  these  men  raced  their  loads  over 
the  deck,  not  merely  for  a  few  minutes,  but  sometimes 
for  an  hour,  or  for  hours,  at  a  time.  Perspiration  shot 
from  the  men's  faces,  and  their  half-bared  breasts  shone 
with  moisture.  Their  pride  in  their  strength  and  quick- 
ness was  manifest ;  with  grinning  faces  and  sparkling 
eyes  they  kept  up  the  tension  of  their  utmost  effort. 
To  be  sure,  trunks  flew  about  like  cannon-balls  now  and 
then,  men  fell  down,  and  trucks  were  let  fly  like  batter- 
ing-rams, but  the  double  line  of  racing,  straining  labor- 
ers, coming  and  going  at  full  speed,  was  never  broken 

185 


while  there  Avas  freight  to  move.  If  there  are  white  men 
of  the  laboring  kind  who  can  be  hired  to  work  as  these 
negroes  do,  I  can  only  say  that  I  shall  not  believe  it 
until  I  see  them.  In  the  truer  Southern  States  (for  the 
motive  spirit  4n  Florida  is  imported  from  the  North)  I 
digested  the  axiom  that  "  a  negro  and  a  mule  work  bet- 
ter than  a  white  man  and  a  horse  if  they  are  pushed," 
but  in  Florida  I  improved  the  saying  by  leaving  out  the 
mule,  and  entering  this  note  in  my  book:  "The  negro 
laborer  is  at  least  as  good  as  a  white  man  if  managed  wise- 
ly." I  suspect  that  if  I  were  to  spend  another  season 
in  the  South  I  would  recommend  that  all  the  present 
steamboat  mates  be  discharged,  and  that  gentler  men 
be  put  in  their  places.  The  very  qualities  that  cause 
them  to  be  chosen  to  superintend  black  labor  appear  to 
me  to  be  the  ones  that  limit  the  result  of  that  labor.  I 
am  wrong,  in  all  probability,  because  the  South  knows 
the  negro,  and,  in  his  place,  admires  him.  He  in  turn 
loves  the  South  and  his  relation  to  it.  I^evertheless,  in 
Florida  I  saw  the  best  work  done,  and  there  the  typical 
mate  and  his  methods  were  replaced  by  plain  business 
principles  reared  upon  a  basis  of  kindliness. 

The  return  trip  on  the  St.  Johns  brings  the  tourist 
through  some  pleasing  parts  of  the  river  at  night ;  but 
not  all  of  its  beauties  are  lost,  for  the  boat  carries  a 
powerful  electric  search  -  light,  whose  glare  is  often 
thrown  upon  the  shores.  One  becomes  familiar  with 
these  powerful  lights  after  a  little  travelling  on  the 
Southern  rivers,  but  it  is  difficult  to  conceive  that  any 
one  ever  could  tire  of  their  weird  and  splendid  effect 
upon  nature.  Now  it  is  an  orange  grove  of  softly 
rounded  trees  that  is  thrown  before  the  vision  as  on  a 
stage  canvas ;  now  a  pretty  villa  is  materialized  out  of 
the  darkness,  a  green  and  white  cottage,  upon  whose 
porch  men  and  women  are   surprised  as  they  woo  the 

186 


cooling,  calm  night;  anon  a  dense  and  tangled  cypress 
swamp,  whose  tree  limbs  bear  startled  turkeys  instead  of 
vegetable  fruit,  leaps  into  the  cold  white  light ;  and  at 
another  time  a  village  Avharf  is  thrown  upon  the  black 
curtain  of  the  night.  The  knots  of  men  and  women,  the 
yellow  lights,  the  sentimental  pairs  in  nooks  that  had 
been  shaded  from  the  lamp-lights,  the  drowsy  negroes 
prone  upon  the  boards,  the  white  sheds,  and  the  leafy 
background  of  the  village  trees  —  all  flash  into  sharp 
definition,  such  as  daylight  could  not  augment.  As  il- 
lustrating the  companionship  which  grows  up  between 
the  captain  and  the  passengers,  I  made  a  note  of  this 
bit  of  dialogue,  that  sounded  upon  the  darkness  aboard 
the  boat  while  the  captain  was  flashing  the  search-light 
here  and  there  for  our  edification  : 

"  I^ow,"  said  he,  "  we  are  hugging  the  other  shore 
quite  close.     I'll  light  it  up  and  show  you." 

"Oh,  captain!"  said  a  lady,  "don't  —  if  it's  being 
hugged." 

But  the  most  instructive  result  of  unconscious  eaves- 
dropping on  that  voyage  was  a  snatch  of  conversa- 
tion between  a  woman  and  her  husband  earlier  in  the 
day: 

"  I  wish  we  could  go  ashore  at  Palatka,"  said  the 
wife,  "  to  get  some  cakes  or  pie,  and  figs  and  dates." 

"  Why  !     The  meals  are  good  on  the  boat." 

"  Oh,  I  hate  steamboat  eating ;  it's  worse  than  hotel 
food.  I'm  getting  really  sick.  Just  cakes  or  pie  '11  do 
me  now." 

"  It's  curious,"  said  the  husband,  as  if  announcing  the 
result  of  much  reflection.  "  When  folks  has  been  away 
from  home  about  so  long,  their  stummicks  gets  out  of 
order,  and  nothing  '11  do  'em  but  plain  home  cooking. 
That's  the  way  it  is  with  me,  anyhow.  I  want  to  go 
.home  soon  as  I  kin — don't  you  ?     They  must  be  a  bak- 

188 


ery  at  some  of  these  here  towns.  Let's  get  off  and  see 
what  we  kin  git." 

The  Ocklawaha  trip  is,  next  to  a  stop  in  St.  Augus- 
tine, the  chief  sensational  feature  of  a  tour  of  Florida,  if 
one  may  rate  the  attractions  of  the  region  according  as 
one  hears  them  talked  about  by  those  who  are  "  doing  " 
the  State.  The  Ocklawaha  is  oftenest  spoken  of  as  the 
crookedest  river  in  the  State,  but  it  is  in  reality  merely 
the  narrowest  of  the  many  very  crooked  rivers  upon 
which  one  may  travel  by  steamboat.  Crooked  rivers 
twisting  between  scalloped  banks  of  verdure  are  far  too 
numerous  for  it  to  be  lightly  said  which  bears  off  the 
palm  for  this  sort  of  eccentricity,  and  these  streams  are 
so  nearly  alike  that  whoever  makes  a  trip  upon  one  or 
two  of  them  may  properly  flatter  himself  that  he  knows 
about  them  all.  However,  the  Ocklawaha  experience  is 
by  far  the  most  peculiar,  because  on  that  stream  the 
little  steamers  are  actually  raked  by  the  branches  of 
the  trees,  because  the  part  of  the  journey  made  in  the 
night-time  is  illuminated  in  an  old-fashioned  way  by 
bonfire-light,  and  because  the  trip  begins  (or  ends)  at 
Silver  Spring,  with  a  view  of  a  mysterious  and  beautiful 
freak  of  nature  in  the  form  of  a  full-fledged  river  burst- 
ing out  of  the  earth. 

The  tourist  attends  the  perpetual  birth  of  a  river  of 
crystal-clear  water,  coming  no  one  knows  whence,  and 
purged  in  the  journey.  Some  persons  have  thrown  old 
cans  and  bits  of  tin  into  the  translucent  depths  of  this 
strange  fountain,  and  these  glisten  and  gleam  and  take 
on  the  appearance  of  silver  and  of  mother-of-pearl  as  one 
looks  down  upon  them  from  above.  If  it  is  true  that 
here  De  Soto  fancied  he  had  found  the  fabled  fountain  of 
youth,  it  will  remain  a  matter  of  eternal  regret  that  he 
did  not  see  those  old  cans  and  bits  of  tin,  for  they  not 
only  emphasize  the  clearness  of  the  water,  but  are  the 

189 


chief  objects  of  interest  and  observation  in  the  locality. 
The  water  has  a  bluish  tinge,  as  pale  as  the  tone  of  a 
Montana  sapphire,  and  in  its  depths  the  tourists  see  its 
denizens  pursuing  their  daily  task  of  running  away  from 
the  boats  that  affright  them.  Turtles  and  gar -fish, 
trout,  and  other  swimmers  are  thus  observed  as  one  sel- 
dom has  a  chance  to  see  them  outside  of  an  aquarium. 

The  Ocklawaha  is  met  at  the  end  of  a  nine-mile  run 
through  this  avenue  of  liquid  sapphire,  and  since  I  could 
not  b}^  any  effort  describe  its  attractions  so  well  as  I 
heard  them  set  forth  by  a  rustic  Western  man  on  the 
Windsor  hotel  porch  in  Jacksonville,  I  will  repeat  what 
he  said  :  "It's  a  leetle  the  derndest  river  I  ever  saw," 
he  began.  "  It  winds  and  twists  and  curves  and  turns 
like  nothing  else  in  the  world,  and  when  you've  been 
all  over  it,  from  Palatky  to  Silver  Springs,  and  have 
been  travelling  a  daytime  and  a  night-time,  you  take 
the  cars  and  go  back  to  where  you  started  from  with  a 
ride  of  fifty  mile.  The  fare  is  seven  dollars  one  way 
and  five  dollars  to  come  back,  but  there  ain't  no  way  of 
taking  the  five  -  dollar  ride  first,  and  then  skipping  the 
rest.  They  give  you  good  eating  —  strawberries  and 
short-cake — oh,  my !  it  ain't  bad,  I  tell  you.  You  get 
three  meals  on  the  trip.  There's  only  room  for  thirty 
passengers,  so  you  better  start  at  Palatky,  and  be  sure 
and  get  a  berth,  else  mebbe  you  won't  get  no  place  to 
sleep.  But  the  boats  ain't  so  dern  little  neither.  They're 
big  enough  to  choke  up  the  river,  I'm  a-tellin'  you. 
Many's  the  time  the  boat  rubs  up  agin  the  bank,  and 
the  branches  of  the  trees  come  slatting  along  the  sides, 
and  a-breaking  the  windows,  and  a-littering  the  whole 
concern  with  broken  branches.  If  you  are  lookin'  out, 
you  won't  see  no  place  for  the  boat  to  go,  the  curves  is 
so  sudden. 

"Well,  I'll  tell  you  just  how  she  twists.     The  two 

190 


boats  meets  at  about  seven  o'clock.  Well,  seven  o'clock 
come,  an'  there  we  was ;  so  the  capt'n  begin  to  toot  his 
whistle  for  the  other  boat.  By  that  time  Ave  was  light- 
ing our  way  with  a  big  iron  vessel  full  of  blazing  pine 
knots  atop  of  the  pilot-house,  which  has  an  iron  roof, 
so's  not  to  catch  fire.  But,  between  you  and  me,  you'd 
think  she  was  afire,  and  that  the  whole  forest  was  afire 
also,  or  going  to  be  every  minute — that  there  pitch-pine 
does  make  such  a  dernation  blaze.  And  it's  ghostlike, 
too ;  sending  the  light  fur  an'  wide,  and  blazing  up  the 
whole  surroundings  light  as  day,  Avith  black  shadoAA^s 
a-dancin'  Avherever  you  set  your  eyes.  It's  worth  seein', 
now,  I'm  a-tellin'  you.  Well,  the  capt'n  he  Avas  a-tootin' 
his  Avhistle,  and  there  Avas  the  Avoods  just  hoAvlin'  Avith 
the  ache-o  of  the  noise.  Pretty  soon  Ave  heard  the  other 
boat  whistle,  and  we  jiist  had  to  hunt  a  hole  lively  for 
to  let  her  pass.  You  see  the  river  ain't  more  than  twen- 
ty-five feet  AA^de  some  places  —  'tain't  wider  than  one 
boat  —  leastwise,  it  only  spares  six  inches  at  one  spot. 
Well,  AA^e  found  a  dent  in  the  Avoods,  and  Ave  tucked  in 
an'  tied  up  to  a  tree  and  Avaited.  Pretty  soon  I  seen 
the  other  boat  a-sloshin'  up 'to  us.  I  could  see  her 
through  the  trees,  and  I'll  swear  she  AA^arn't  more'n  two 
or  three  rod  off  by  land.  Well,  sir,  she  must  have  been 
that  many  mile  off  by  Avater,  for  it  was  a  good  sixteen 
minutes  before  she  come  splashin'  by  us.  I  never  see 
nothing  like  it  in  my  life." 

The  most  extended  vibration  of  the  restless  mass  of 
Avinter  travellers  in  Florida  is  up  and  down  the  Indian 
Kiver.  The  starting-point  for  this  journey  is  Ormond, 
on  the  Halifax,  and  in  all  Florida  I  saAv  nothing  more 
picturesque  or  alluring  than  the  hotel  and  its  surround- 
ings at  that  place.  Going  from  St.  Augustine,  the  ma- 
jor part  of  the  short  journey  is  through  the  usual  hot, 
dusty,  and  monotonous  pine  -  barrens,  Avhich  make  trav- 

192 


elling  by  train  in  Florida  almost  unendurable.  A  few 
notable  orange  groves  displaying  fruit  and  flower  side 
by  side,  and  weighting  the  atmosphere  with  a  heavy  but 
delicious  odor,  give  a  quarter  of  an  hour's  relief  at  the 
outset.  But  ten  minutes  before  Ormond  is  reached  the 
scenery  changes  with  startling  suddenness,  and  the  piny 
woods  end  and  the  palmetto  groves  begin,  as  if  nature 
had  drawn  an  invisible  and  narrow  line  between  the 
temperate  and  the  tropic  zones  at  right  angles  across 
the  railroad  track.  Strange  rather  than  beautiful  is  the 
sight  of  these  unfamiliar  trees ;  and  the  traveller,  as  he 
looks  out  upon  them,  is  apt  to  think  again,  as  he  so 
often  has  occasion  to  do  in  the  Floral  State,  that  beyond 
its  chief  charm  of  unapt  warm  weather  the  allurements 
of  the  State  to  the  average  visitor  from  the  rest  of  the 
Union  consist  in  the  novelty  of  his  surroundings  far 
more  than  in  any  other  charms  it  possesses.  These 
palmettoes  scarcely  can  be  said  to  grace  any  view,  but 
they  render  many  a  vista  interesting  by  their  peculiar- 
ity. They  save  themselves  from  utter  tediousness  by 
having  some  of  their  trunks  bent  into  serpentine  curves, 
while  others  remain  thatched  with  the  pretty  patterning 
made  by  the  joints  of  former  and  lower  branches.  The 
trees  themselves  are  ugly  because  they  are  ill-fashioned. 
Their  tops  are  too  small  for  their  trunks,  and  make 
them  look  like  exaggerated  mops — or  as  a  broomstick 
Avould  look  with  a  woman's  bonnet  on  top  of  it.  Artists 
often  greatly  improve  upon  nature  in  their  pictures  of 
palmettoes  by  drawing  them  with  noble  umbrageous 
tops,  such  as  the  finer  varieties  of  the  palm,  not  seen  in 
our  country,  possess. 

The  crackers  call  the  remnants  of  old  branches  of 
former  years  "boot -jacks,"  and  have  a  still  more  sur- 
prising name  for  the  palmettoes  themselves.     When  I 
was  at  the  Ormond  I  heard  a  Floridian  praising  the 
N  193 


artistic  work  of  a  remarkable  New  England  woman 
who  was  the  house-keeper  of  the  hotel,  and  who  freshly 
decorated  the  public  rooms  and  porches  of  the  great 
house  every  morning.  "  She  puts  a  cabbage-leaf  on  the 
ceiling,  or  sprays  of  fern  on  the  sash  curtains,  or  a  cab- 
bage-leaf on  a  wall  —  and  the  effect  is  splendid,"  said 
he.  I  innocently  ventured  the  remark  that  I  had  never 
considered  a  cabbage  as  a  decorative  subject ;  and  the 
cracker  replied,  with  a  laugh  :  "  Ah  !  I  forgot ;  you  don't 
understand.  'Cabbage'  is  what  we  call  the  palmetto 
down  here." 

But  to  return.  Suddenly  the  pine  -  barrens  end,  and 
the  tourist  sees  regiments  of  palmettoes,  or  thickly 
massed  platoons  of  them,  guarding  swampy  hammocks 
of  cypress  and  oak  bearded  with  moss.  Then  just  as 
unexpectedly  the  landscape  breaks  and  the  Halifax 
Kiver  appears  —  a  wide  blue  arm  of  the  sea,  at  whose 
edo:es  the  advancine:  forests  have  halted.  A  white 
bridge  spans  the  noble  sheet  of  water,  and  at  its  far- 
ther end  is  seen  the  Ormond,  whose  flags  and  towers 
and  galleries  peep  out  above  and  between  the  thick 
foliage  that  forms  its  shady  and  picturesque  retreat. 
It  is  well  worth  a  visit,  not  only  because  it  is  well  kept, 
and  continually  filled  with  a  lively  and  select  company, 
but  because  it  is  the  seat  of  a  New  England  colony  in 
the  heart  of  Florida.  One  of  the  proprietors,  nearly  all 
the  employes,  and  many  of  the  boarders  are  of  those 
who  regard  Boston  as  the  seat  of  learning  and  the  hub 
of  progress.  The  waiter-girls  in  the  dining-room  sup- 
port an  air  which  begets  the  suspicion  that  after  the  ta- 
bles are  cleared  they  retire  to  their  chambers  to  enjoy 
an  hour  with  Browning,  or,  at  least,  to  catch  up  with 
their  Chautauquan  obligations.  The  possibility  that 
any  of  them  were  among  the  shadowy  couples  I  met 
on  the  moonlit  road  to  the  sea-beach  back  of  the  hotel 

194 


is  a  thought  of  which  I  was  ashamed  when  it  occurred. 
Those  couples !  What  a  sanctuary  for  Cupid's  victims 
is  that  white  sand  road  to  the  ocean  at  Ormond  !  Ahead 
of  me  that  night  I  saw  a  swaying  line  of  bodies,  each 
of  which  appeared  like  one  absurdly  thick  personage. 
When  my  footfall  sounded  near  one  of  these  forms  it 
would  slowly  separate  into  two  distinct  objects,  between 
whose  shapes  the  night  light  shone  broadly ;  and  then, 
if  I  turned  and  looked  back  (guiltily),  I  saw  a  pair  of 
arms  appear,  contrariwise,  and  cross  and  draw  together, 
and  the  two  figures  melted  into  one  again,  as  if  in  an- 
ticipation of  that  composite  blending  of  individualities 
which  nature's  law  ordains  in  a  certain  blissful  state. 
But  there  was  scant  time  on  that  dim  road  to  pursue 
even  so  pretty  a  thought.  In  another  hundred  yards  I 
came  upon  another  composite,  and  turned  it  into  two — 
though  still  with  but  the  single  thought  that  I  could  not 
hurry  by  too  quickly  to  please  them. 

It  was  quite  appropriate  in  a  typical  J^ew  England 
colony  to  find  some  such  novelty  as  a  perpetually  heated 
urn  of  hot  water  in  the  hotel  office  for  the  use  of  those 
with  w^hom  what  one  of  the  guests  called  ^'  the  hot-wa- 
ter craze"  is  not  yet  grown  cool.  It  was  not  due  to 
ISTew  England  influence,  though,  that  the  resources  of 
the  hotel  were  strained  in  providing  sufficient  men  to 
take  part  in  two  sets  of  the  Lancers.  The  feat  would 
not  be  attempted  in  many  Floridian  resorts.  When  I 
took  my  first  meal  at  the  Ormond  I  counted  fifty-one 
women  and  sixteen  men  around  me  at  the  tables — 
rather  an  undue  proportion  of  males,  I  thought.  The 
fishing  is  profitable  there,  and  weak -fish,  sheepshead, 
channel-bass,  cavaille,  and  other  fishes  are  plentiful,  the 
weak-fish  being  of  a  temper  to  take  either  fly  or  minnow 
bait,  and  the  sport  remaining  active  by  night  as  well  as 
day.     Much  of  the  region  around  Ormond  was  once  cut 

195 


up  into  great  plantations,  but  the  Seminole  war  caused 
their  abandonment,  and  one  of  these  great  sugar  farms 
now  serves  as  a  show-place — not  as  a  model  farm,  but 
as  a  jungle  of  dense  and  apparently  primeval  luxuriance. 
All  over  where  the  fields  were,  over  the  canals  and 
ditches,  the  forgotten  slave  quarters,  and  the  still  ap- 
parent ruins  of  the  work  buildings,  grows  a  rank  and 
lush  verdure  curious  to  see-,  and  so  thick  that  the  road 
through  it  has  the  character  of  a  tunnel,  whose  round 
farther  end  lets  in  a  circle  of  daylight  as  the  barrel  of 
a  telescope  would  do. 

The  place  is  known  as  "  the  Hammock,"  a  term  which 
is  necessarily  in  very  common  use  in  Florida,  since  it 
describes  a  constantly  recurring  feature  of  nearly  every 
district  in  that  country.  The  word  does  not  signify 
what  we  mean  either  by  the  term  hammock  or  by  the 
word  hummock.  Hammock,  as  it  is  used  in  Florida, 
serves  to  characterize  fertile  soil,  not  by  reference  to 
the  dirt  itself,  but  to  what  grows  in  it,  the  custom  in 
Florida  being  to  look  up  at  the  trees  on  a  bit  of  land, 
instead  of  down  at  the  earth,  in  order  to  determine  the 
quality  of  the  soil.  Wherever  there  is  a  dense  forest, 
swamp,  or  jungle  growth,  the  place  is  called  a  ham- 
mock, and  the  term  is  variously  qualified  to  suit  differ- 
ing conditions  by  such  prefixes  as  high,  low,  gray,  shell, 
marl,  mulatto,  hickory,  live-oak,  and  cabbage. 

The  Indian  Eiver  is  by  far  the  longest  one  of  a  series 
of  inland  salt  -  water  courses  which  lie  along  the  east 
coast  close  to  the  ocean.  Six  miles  of  marsh  and  three 
of  dry  land  are  the  only  obstacles  now  in  the  way  of  an 
inland  boat  journey  from  St.  Augustine  to  the  end  of 
the  series  below  Lake  Worth,  almost  at  the  southern 
end  of  Florida.  From  Ormond,  on  the  Halifax,  to  Port 
Orange,  eleven  miles,  the  way  is  broad  and  comparative- 
ly uninteresting ;  but  below  Port  Orange  the  course  is 

196 


choked  with  islands  covered  by  black  mangrove  -  trees. 
Here  is  fine  pasturage  for  myriads  of  bees,  and  the  api- 
aries that  are  seen  there  show  honey-gathering  to  be  a 
leading  industry.  Here  it  is  that  we  trace  to  its  source 
the  proverb  that  "  oysters  grow  on  trees  in  Florida,"  for 
it  is  to  the  half-uncovered  roots  of  the  mangroves  that 


AN   OLD   BIT   OF   ST.  AUGUSTINE 


the  bivalves  cling  like  barnacles  on  a  derelict  hulk  at 
sea.  The  mangrove  is  the  island-maker  of  the  region. 
A  reef  forms,  debris  catches  upon  it,  the  mangrove 
springs  up,  its  roots  form  a  crib,  more  flotsam  catches  in 
and  around  them,  and  as  the  tree  grows  it  keeps  lifting 
up  the  material  around  it,  until  an  island  results.     The 

197 


Hillsborough  River,  as  this  second  link  is  called,  is 
merely  a  channel  winding  among  these  queer  islands, 
and  broadening  now  and  again  into  pools  that  are  no 
flatter  than  the  country  around  them.  By  the  Haul- 
over  Canal,  at  a  point  where  the  Indians  found  a  "car- 
ry" or  portage,  access  is  had  to  the  Indian  River  in 
the  neighborhood  that  gave  the  first  fame  to  Florida 
oranges.  This  great  inlet,  banded  to  the  sea,  and  also 
fed  by  rivers  from  the  mainland,  holds  a  straight  course 
of  142  miles  to  Jupiter  Inlet,  and  being  wide  every- 
w^here  except  at  the  long  reach  called  the  Narrows, 
attains  a  breadth  of  more  than  three  miles  in  places. 

The  trip  through  the  Narrows  is  the  most  enjoyable 
part  of  the  voyage  to  very  many  persons.  But  over  all 
the  journey  the  flocks  of  unfamiliar  birds,  the  slowly 
changing  character  of  the  vegetation  as  it  takes  on  more 
and  more  of  a  tropical  nature,  the  flashing  phosphores- 
cence of  the  water,  the  occasional  sight  of  a  steamer's 
rigging  across  the  reef  that  parts  the  river  and  ocean, 
and,  more  than  all,  the  clear  skies  and  unusually  golden, 
sunny  weather,  are  all  charming  novelties  to  the  tourist. 
At  Jupiter  Inlet  is  found  Captain  YaiFs  floating  hotel — 
an  old  steamboat  that  serves  well  as  a  boarding-house, 
and  that  entertains  not  only  fishermen,  but  many  ladies 
who  come  with  them.  Beyond,  the  termination  of  the 
tour  at  Lake  Worth  is  made  by  what  is  called  the  "  ce- 
lestial railway  system,"  so  called  because  it  starts  at 
Jupiter  and  passes  stations  called  Juno  and  Mars.  The 
numerous  country  houses  of  winter  residents  at  and  near 
the  lake-side  prove  it  to  be  as  charming  a  resort  as  it 
appears  to  the  eye.  Here  the  cocoa-palm  flourishes,  and 
every  landscape  is  far  more  tropic  in  appearance  than 
those  of  northern  Florida.  It  is  on  Pitt's  Island,  at  the 
head  of  the  lake,  that  one  may  see  the  possibilities  of 
that  climate,  not  only  because  Mrs.  Pitts  came  to  Flor- 

198 


ida  expecting  to  die,  and  yet  remains  a  comely  and  vig- 
orous factor  in  the  world,  but  because  she  and  her  hus- 
band cultivate  almost  every  semi-tropical  fruit  that  will 
grow  there.  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Pitts,  unlike  the  average 
agriculturist,  who  despoils  nature  ruthlessly  wherever 
he  calls  upon  it  to  support  him,  have  religiously  left  the 
most  beautiful  nooks  and  bowers  that  they  found  for 
the  pleasure  not  only  of  their  boarders,  but  of  the  ex- 
cursionists who  freely  and  frequently  visit  the  island. 
This  island  was  once  a  pelican  roost,  and  owes  its  won- 
drous fertility  to  that  fact.  I  have  heard  it  spoken  of 
by  travellers  as  "the  most  picturesque  spot  in  Florida," 
though  one  must  have  seen  all  the  others  to  say  that 
fairly.  There  is  excellent  fishing  for  very  many  kinds 
of  fish  at  the  inlets  and  in  the  lake,  and  the  country 
around  offers  good  sport  with  the  gun.  In  addition  to 
the  private  residences,  there  are  hotels  at  Lake  Worth 
and  at  Palm  Beach.  I  should  have  said  in  its  place 
that  there  are  many  pleasant  stopping-places  along  the 
route  from  Ormond  to  Lake  Worth,  such  as  Daytona, 
Titusville,  Rock  Ledge,  and  others. 

Lake  Worth  is  east  of  the  Everglades,  and  southeast 
of  the  great  lake  Okeechobee — a  fact  that  suggests  a 
mention  of  the  stupendous  task  that  Mr.  Hamilton  Dis- 
ton,  the  well-known  Philadelphian,  has  undertaken  in  a 
region  reaching  far  to  the  north  and  west  of  the  lake. 
A  study  of  the  character  of  the  southern  centre  of  Flor- 
ida and  of  its  lakes  and  watercourses  led  him  to  believe 
that  by  a  series  of  canals  a  great  territory  could  be 
drained  and  made  useful  agriculturally.  Starting  with 
the  great  lakes  near  Kissimmee  City,  he  has  dredged 
out  canals  that  connect  them  with  one  another  and  with 
Lake  Kissimmee,  w^hich  in  turn  sends  its  waters  into 
Okeechobee  by  way  of  the  Kissimmee  River.  By  an- 
other canal  he  connects-  Okeechobee  with  the  Caloosa- 

199 


hatchee  Kiver,  emptying  into  the  Gulf  of  Mexico.  This 
work  has  so  far  progressed  that  the  northerly  lakes  have 
already  been  lowered  eight  feet  and  seven  feet,  in  sep- 
arate instances,  and  an  appreciable  diminution  of  water 
in  Okeechobee  has  been  brought  about.  This  drainage 
from  the  lakes  implies  the  reclamation  of  a  great  area 
of  neighboring  land,  on  some  of  which  the  confident  con- 
queror of  nature  has  already  established  rice  and  sugar 
plantations,  with  a  refinery  of  the  first  rank  in  connec- 
tion with  the  last-named  industry.  The  land  that  has 
been  recovered  is  described  as  exceedingly  rich,  being 
covered  with  a  heavy  deposit  of  decayed  vegetable 
matter. 

Between  Okeechobee  and  Jupiter  Inlet,  and  thence 
deep  into  the  Everglades,  are  found  such  of  the  Semi- 
nole Indians  as  remain.  Their  number  is  variously  es- 
timated at  from  250  to  1200  souls,  and  I  fancy  that  the 
latter  figures  are  more  nearly  correct.  They  are  de- 
scribed as  fine  men  and  women  physically.  They  pole 
about  the  waterways  in  dugouts,  and  for  a  living  fish, 
hunt,  grow  sugar-cane,  a  few  cereals  and  vegetables,  and 
collect  the  skins  of  the  otter,  deer,  and  bear.  Some  of 
them  read  and  write,  and  many  of  them  have  rescued 
white  men  who  have  become  lost  in  the  interminable 
mazes  of  the  grassy  and  island  -  cluttered  Everglades. 
West  of  Okeechobee  on  the  Gulf  coast  is  the  famous 
Charlotte  Harbor,  the  seat  of  the  sport  of  tarpon-fish- 
ing. This  huge  and  gamy  fish,  the  capture  of  which  is 
the  supreme  delight  and  ambition  of  all  salt-water  fish- 
ermen, is  sought  mainly  at  this  point,  or,  to  be  more 
accurate,  from  Punta  Gorda  to  Punta  Rassa,  and  some 
distance  up  the  Caloosahatchee  Eiver,  but  it  is  generally 
held  that  the  great  fish  is  found  all  over  the  Gulf,  even 
on  the  Louisiana  and  Texas  coasts. 

The  commercial  situation  in  Florida  is  not  so  agree- 

200 


able  a  subject  as  its  holiday  side.  To  put  the  case 
bluntly,  as  it  was  put  to  me  by  one  of  the  shrewdest 
and  most  famous  of  the  self-made  millionaires  of  our 
country,  who  has  an  intimate  knowledge  of  his  subject, 
"  Florida  has  been  a  great  sink  for  Northern  and  West- 
ern capital,  and  not  a  dollar  of  profit  on  any  single  line 
of  investments  has  ever  been  taken  out  of  the  State." 
The  State  has  a  completely  serviceable  system,  of  rail- 
roads, but  their  opportunities  for  money -making  have 
been  mainly  limited  to  three  winter  months  in  the  year. 
The  hotels,  taken  as  a  whole,  have  not  paid,  for  the  same 
reason,  and  one  of  the  shrewdest  men  in  that  business 
complained  to  me  that  the  invasion  of  rich  men  and 
land  companies  into  the  business,  with  their  magnificent 
buildings  and  indifference  to  profit  or  loss,  will  not 
better  the  outlook  in  that  avenue  for  investment.  Or- 
ange culture  has  returned  the  interest  on  the  sum  in- 
vested only  in  one  year  out  of  every  four,  and  cocoanut 
culture  and  the  other  industries,  with  the  exception  of 
sugar-making,  have  not  yet  proved  profitable. 

The  state  of  the  orange  trade,  which  is  associated 
with  Florida  first  in  every  American  mind,  is  peculiar. 
The  trade  in  that  fruit  is  at  a  disadvantage  in  one  re- 
spect, especially  when  the  crop  is  heavy  and  fine.  It  is 
so  because  the  oranges  can  only  be  distributed  by  ven- 
tilated cars  among  the  large  towns  and  railroad  centres, 
and  are  not — at  present,  certainly — in  use  as  a  general 
and  popular  article  of  food,  but  rather  as  ornaments  on 
the  tables  of  the  well-to-do.  But  the  main  trouble  is 
apart  from  this.  It  is  that  when  what  is  known  as  "  the 
boom  "  in  Florida  was  in  progress,  in  1873  to  1876,  the 
bulk  of  the  land  that  was  for  sale  was  in  the  form  of 
land  grants  to  railways,  land  company  tracts,  and  the 
sections  taken  upon  homestead  rights  by  persons  who 
came  to  Florida  simply  to  get   land  for  nothing,  and 

202 


who  afterwards  wanted  less  of  it,  and  some  cash  for 
what  they  could  sell.  The  land  thus  at  hand  to  meet 
the  "  boom  "  was  nearly  all  pine  land.  All  Florida  was 
interested  in  saying  that  this  pine  land  was  the  best 
orange  land  in  the  world.  It  is  a  fact  that  oranges  can 
be  forced  to  grow  on  that  land,  though  this  is  often 
done  only  at  a  great  cost,  and  when  the  object  is  at- 
tained the  fruit  brings  prices  that,  to  say  the  least, 
leave  no  profit  for  the  planter.  Thus  it  came  about 
that  ninety-nine  one-hundredths  of  the  groves  in  Florida 
were  established  where  they  would  not  produce  returns 
on  the  first  investment ;  in  all  probability  the  majority 
will  not  pay  the  second  owners.  They  are  not  on  or- 
ange land.  On  the  other  hand,  a  few  shrewder  invest- 
ors came  to  Florida,  and  went  about  the  State  studying 
the  characteristics  and  peculiarities  of  the  business. 
They  noted  what  sort  of  land  and  locations  promised 
success,  observing  that  the  lands  which  produced  the 
best  fruit  were  confined  to  certain  sorts,  and  that  the 
best  protection  against  frost  was  water  to  the  north- 
ward or  northwestward.  These  deliberate  and  observ- 
ing men  find  no  fault  with  their  investments.  They  have 
not  only  produced  what  are  rated  as  the  best  oranges 
in  the  world,  but  they  have  obtained  extra  and  even 
fancy  prices  for  their  yields,  and  have  made  handsome 
profits.  Halifax  and  Indian  river  fruit,  for  instance, 
usually  grown  on  high  shell  hammock  land  or  heav^^ 
marl  hammock  land,  is  quoted  regularly  at  a  dollar 
above  the  market.  This  account  of  the  history  of  the 
trade,  concurred  in  by  the  shrewdest  planters  I  met, 
explains  why  Florida  oranges  difi'er  as  they  do  in  qual- 
ity. The  perfect  Florida  orange  is  thin-coated,  heavy, 
full  of  sugar,  and  yet  with  sufficient  sub-acid  to  give  it 
sprightliness — like  something  richer  than  a  rich  lemon- 
ade.    The  groves  that  produce   this  fruit  will  remain 

203 


and  continue  to  make  profits.  Many  of  the  other  sort 
must  be  abandoned,  and  many  of  intermediate  value  must 
be  sold  for  little  money  to  new  owners. 

Shrewd  business  men  who  know  the  State  and  its  re- 
sources assert  that  the  finding  of  the  phosphate  beds  in 
the  region  west  of  the  centre  of  the  peninsula  is  one  of 
the  greatest  of  recent  American  discoveries.  The  phos- 
phate beds  are  heaviest  on  what  may  be  called  the 
divide  or  high  ground  from  which  the  waters  flow  in 
contrary  directions.  As  is  almost  always  the  case,  the 
district  contains  countless  lakes  and  much  spongy  soil. 
Here  are  found  potash  and  vegetable  ammonia,  but 
their  commercial  fitness  remains  to  be  determined. 
The  thick  beds  of  rock  phosphate  are  along  either  side 
of  the  Withlacoochee  Eiver,  in  Hernando  and  Pasco 
counties,  and  to  a  lesser  extent  in  other  counties  as  far 
north  as  Gainesville.  All  the  phosphate  land  is  from 
200  to  400  feet  higher  than  the  sea-level,  and  it  is  popu- 
larly believed  that  it  was  an  island  when  the  major  part 
of  the  peninsula  was  under  water.  Possibly  it  may 
have  been  a  bird  roost,  like  the  guano  islands  of  Peru. 
It  is  being  mined  in  several  places,  and  cargoes  contain- 
ing eighty  to  eighty-five  per  cent,  of  phosphate  have 
been  shipped.  A  cargo  of  seventy  -  seven  per  cent, 
phosphate  showed  only  one  per  cent,  of  iron. 

There  has  been  a  boom  in  this  product,  and  with  the 
usual  unhappy  consequences.  Men  were  induced  to  put 
money  into  something  like  200  organized  companies. 
As  was  the  case  in  the  oil  region,  and  in  the  history  of 
so  many  other  speculative  enterprises,  the  first  holders 
are  being  sacrificed.  That  rock  Avhich  contains  eighty 
per  cent,  or  more  of  phosphate  is  marketable  at  a  profit, 
but  the  difiiculty  in  most  cases  is  that  to  get  out  a  ton 
of  this  it  is  necessary  to  move  five  tons  of  phosphate  of 
an  inferior  grade.     When  men  learn  how  to  separate 

204 


the  impurity  from  the  valuable  product  in  the  inferior 
grades,  and  when  means  of  transportation  and  moderate 
freight  rates  are  obtained,  the  value  of  the  mines  to  the 
then  holders  will  be  very  great.  The  supply  appears  to 
be  inexhaustible,  and  it  would  seem  that  our  entire 
South  must  use  it,  and  that  (if  it  is  marketed  at  prices 
that  will  popularize  it)  it  must  cause  the  abandonment 
of  other  mines  elsewhere,  and  find  a  market  abroad. 
In  Hillsborough,  Polk,  Manatee,  and  De  Soto  counties 
are  deposits  of  pebble  phosphates  Avhich  are  being 
heavily  worked,  particularly  along  the  Peace  River. 
This  is  being  shipped  in  large  quantities. 

205 


YI 


THE   INDUSTRIAL  REGION   OF  NORTHERN 
ALABAMA,  TENNESSEE,  AND  GEORGIA 

One  of  the  most  remarkable  curios  in  Uncle  Sam's 
cabinet  is  Lookout  Mountain,  at  Chattanooga,  Tennessee. 
The  traveller  expects  such  occasional  combinations  of 
mountain  and  plain  on  the  edges  of  the  Rockies,  the 
Selkirks,  and  other  great  mountain  chains,  and  yet  it  is 
doubtful  whether  any  other  as  beautiful  is  to  be  found. 
For  it  has  seldom  happened  that  a  tall  mountain  rises 
abruptly  to  interrupt  and  dominate  a  view  so  majestic 
and  of  such  varied  features.  Glistening  water,  smiling 
farm-land,  forest,  city,  hill,  and  island,  all  lie  upon  the 
gorgeous  and  gigantic  canvas  of  the  Master  Painter, 
who  there  invites  mankind  to  his  studio  to  enjoy  such 
views  as  we  had  fancied  only  the  stupid  denizens  of  the 
air  are  privileged  to  dully  scan. 

To  surfeit  one's  self  with  the  wondrous,  changing, 
widening  beauty  of  that  splendid  scene  one  does  not 
have  to  consider  the  martial  records  that  brave  men 
wrote  with  their  blood  all  over  the  foreground  of  the 
prospect.  But  when  it  happens  that  the  spectator  is 
an  American  whose  soul  has  been  stirred  by  the  poor 
printed  annals  of  Chickamauga  and  Mission  Ridge,  the 
feast  spread  before  Lookout  Mountain  ministers  to  the 
understanding  the  while  it  ravishes  the  eye. 

In  nothing  is  this  wonder-spot  more  wonderful  than 
in  its  accessibility.     It  is  even  more  convenient  to  the 

206 


tourist  than  Niagara  Falls — almost  the  solitary  great 
natural  curiosity  in  our  country  for  which  one  does  not 
have  to  travel  far  and  labor  hard.  In  this  case  the 
grand  view  is  one  of  the  sights  of  Chattanooga,  ''the 
Little  Pittsburg"  of  the  South.  The  city  6njoys  it  as  a 
householder  does  his  garden,  by  merely  travelling  to  a 
back  window,  as  it  were,  for  the  historic  mountain  is 
at  the  end  of  a  five-cent  trolley  line.  During  half  the 
year  the  tourist  is  even  better  served,  for  the  railroads 
haul  the  "sleepers"  up  the  mountain-side  in  summer, 
and  discharge  the  passengers  on  the  very  edge  that 
divides  terra  firma  and  eagle's  vision.  I  took  the  trolley 
line  during  what  the  Southern  folk  are  pleased  to  call 
winter-time.  The  way  led  to  just  such  a  looking  rail- 
Avay  as  one  finds  at  Niagara  Falls  going  down  to  the 
Avater's  edge,  though  this  one  darts  up  the  two-thou- 
sand-foot-high mountain-side,  and  is  famed  among  pro- 
fessional engineers  as  a  remarkable  creation.  It  was 
planned  and  built  by  Colonel  W.  R.  King,  U.S.A.  It 
is  4500  feet  in  length,  with  an  elevation  of  1400  feet, 
and  a  grade  of  nearly  one  foot  in  three  at  the  steepest 
place. 

The  terminus  is  the  Lookout  Point  Hotel,  which  ap- 
pears to  stand  upon  a  bowlder  suspended  over  the  re- 
mainder of  creation,  as  if  a  mountain  rising  out  of  a 
plain  had  thrust  out  a  finger  and  men  had  put  up  a 
building  on  the  finger-nail.  The  biblical  word-picture 
which  tells  of  our  Saviour  being  taken  up  on  a  high 
mountain  and  shown  the  kingdoms  of  the  earth  con- 
veys the  idea  that  the  view  from  this  point  suggests. 
One  can  but  have  an  idea  of  it,  and  it  can  only  be  ex- 
pressed or  described  with  a  figure  of  speech.  To  be 
told  that  it  commands  500  miles  of  the  earth's  surface, 
and  that  the  most  distant  objects  are  parts  of  seven 
different  States,  is  too   much  for  the  mind  to  master. 

307 


What  the  eye  takes  in  is  a  checker-board  made  up  of 
farms,  roads,  villages,  woods,  ridges,  and  mountain 
ranges,  all  in  miniature.  The  Tennessee  River  glad- 
dens the  scene.  Though  it  is  1400  feet  wide,  it  looks 
like  a  ribbon,  and,  like  a  ribbon  thrown  carelessly  from 
the  mountain-top,  it  lies  in  many  curves  and  convolu- 
tions, a  dull  green  band  everywhere  fringed  with  a  thin 
line  of  trees  that  wall  in  the  farmers'  fields.  You  may 
count  ten  of  its  curves,  and  three  of  them,  immediately 
below  the  mountain,  form  the  exact  shape  of  an  Indian 
moccasin,  around  the  toe  of  which  a  toy  freight-train 
crawls  lazily  with  a  muffled  gasping  out  of  all  proportion 
to  its  size.  A  brown  and  white  mound  of  smoke  and 
steam  beyond  the  nearest  farms  is  pointed  out  as  Chat- 
tanoog-a,  and  a  rollino^  wooded  remon  on  the  rio^ht  is 
spoken  of  as  the  bloodiest  field  of  the  rebellion — fearful 
Chickamauga.  The  low  dark  green  mound  in  the  im- 
mediate foreground  is  Mission  Ridge,  and  between  that 
and  the  curtain  of  smoke  that  hides  the  busy  city  a 
tiny  bit  of  yellow  road  is  seen  to  disappear  at  a  micro- 
scopic white  gate,  which  is  the  portal  of  a  cemetery 
wherein  thirteen  full  regiments  of  Northern  heroes  lie 
— the  blue  who  have  turned  to  gray  in  the  long  em- 
brace of  death — five  thousand  of  them  not  remembered 
by  name. 

The  rapid  run  by  narrow-gauge  road  to  Sunset  Rock 
suggests  a  panorama  in  which  the  swiftly  changing 
scene  stands  steady  and  the  spectator  whirls  beside  it. 
Coloradan  views  are  strongly  called  to  mind,  but  the 
memory  of  them  is  at  a  disadvantage,  since  here  all 
nature  is  green  and  fertile  instead  of  dead  and  burned. 
Here  the  land  is  peopled,  and  there  it  is  deserted.  And 
yet  the  mountain-side  is  precisely  the  same  as  if  we 
were  back  in  the  Rockies,  piled  up  with  great  gray 
rocks  in  mounds  and  giant  fret- work.      Sunset  Rock 

208 


INN   ON   LOOKOUT  MOUNTAIN 


itself  is  another  finger  or  knuckle  of  the  mountain, 
clinging  to  its  side,  yet  seeming  to  hang  in  mid-air  over 
the  ravishing  landscape  far  below.  There  are  several 
minor  battle-fields  within  the  view  from  it,  but  at  the 
first  vantage-point  the  splendors  of  nature  crowd  the 
memories  of  the  war  out  of  the  chief  place  in  the  mind. 
The  charm  that  has  made  this  rock  the  favorite  rendez- 
vous of  the  scores  of  thousands  who  journey  to  the 
mountain  every  year  comes  with  the  views  at  sunset 
when  Phoebus's  fires  burn  many -colored,  and  tint  and 
tinge  and  illumine  every  distant  object,  from  the  lowly 
fields  to  the  highest  heavens,  with  slowly  changing 
brilliant  hues.  I  did  not  see  it,  and  will  not  attempt  a 
description  of  what  I  am  assured  is  one  of  the  most  ex.- 
travagant  and  splendid,  almost  daily,  triumphs  of  nature. 
Let  the  reader  imagine  it,  or  go  and  be  ravished  by  it. 
The  stage -setting  includes  three  ranges  of  hills,  which 
o  209 


even  as  I  saw  them  in  the  early  afternoon  were  rosy, 
green,  and  darkest  blue,  and  behind  the  farthest  of 
these  the  fire -god  shifts  his  colored  slides  and  throws 
his  gorgeous  lights  from  earth  to  sky. 

Bridegrooms  and  beaux,  and  brides  and  fiancees  —  in 
a  word,  all  lovers — make  quite  another  use  of  Sunset 
Rock.  There  is  a  photographer  there,  and  his  exhibit 
of  pictures  shows  him  to  be  a  modern  Cupid,  ev^er  at- 
tendant upon  Love.  All  around  his  show-room  are 
photographs  of  the  smitten,  a  pair  at  a  time  invariably, 
taken  in  the  very  act  of  being  in  love,  seated  side  by 
side  upon  the  gray  insensate  rock  that  juts  above  the 
diminished  lands  below.  Each  new  couple  that  drifts 
along  sees  the  portraits  of  all  the  others,  and  negotia- 
tions with  the  photographer  follow  close  upon  quick 
glances,  hushed  whispers,  and  coy  giggling.  Then  out 
go  the  lovers  to  the  rock,  and  out  conies  Cupid  with  his 
camera.  He  is  a  wag,  this  Cupid,  for  he  says  of  his 
clients,  "  We  git  'em  in  all  stages  of  the  disease."  His 
collection  easily  divides  the  lovers  into  two  classes — the 
self-conscious  and  the  ecstatic.  The  self-conscious  ones 
sit  bolt-upright,  a  trifle  apart,  with  glances  fixed  sternly 
upon  nothing.  The  ecstatic  lovers  cling  together,  and 
look  with  sheep's  eyes  at  one  another  or  at  Cupid. 
Sometimes  the  classes  mix,  and  one  sees  an  ecstatic 
bride  leaning  all  her  weight  of  love  and  charms  upon 
a  self-conscious  groom,  who  frowns  and  pulls  away. 
There  are  such  pictures  in  the  collection  as  would  serve 
in  a  divorce  court  without  a  word  of  testimony  on  either 
side;  but,  thank  Heaven,  the  ecstatics  supply  photo- 
graphs that  need  only  to  be  kept  framed  at  home  in  or- 
der to  banish  discord  as  long  as  the  wedded  pair  have 
sight  to  see  how  happy  they  had  planned  to  be  and 
were.  Mingled  discordantly  with  th^se  trophies  of  the 
court  of  love  are  reminders  of  that  class  of  idiots  who 

210 


would  manage  to  desecrate  a  junk-^hop  if  they  were  ad- 
mitted to  it.  They  have  themselves  pictured  as  flinging 
themselves  off  the  dizzy  rock ;  one  has  actually  got  his 
comrade  to  hold  him  by  one  too -servile  trousers  leg 
while  he  dangles  head  downwards  over  the  precipice. 
That  is  a  touch  of  nature  that  does  not  make  the  whole 
world  kin. 

There  are  too  many  other  points  of  interest  on  the 
mountain  for  mention  here  —  curious  freaks  of  nature 
and  charming  spots  in  abundance.  It  is  several  days' 
work  to  see  them,  but  there  are  plenty  of  hotels  and 
villa  settlements  there  for  those  who  have  the  time  to 
enjoy  the  place  in  its  entireness.  Lookout  Inn,  a  hotel 
that  will  accommodate  three  hundred  boarders,  is  on 
the  tip-top  of  the  mountain,  and  has  the  reputation  of 
being  one  of  the  very  best  hotels  in  the  South.  It  is 
owned  and  controlled  by  a  land  and  improvement  com- 
pany, and  the  principal  stockholders  are  ISTew-England- 
ers.  The  railways  carry  cars  to  its  doors,  and  it  is  to  be 
kept  open  all  the  year  round.  At  the  end  of  such  a  visit 
as  I  made  the  visitor  simply  tumbles  back  to  the  com- 
monplace earth  on  the  inclined  railway.  The  car  is 
built  in  the  form  of  an  inclined  plane,  like  the  gallery 
in  a  playhouse,  with  one  side  open  towards  the  nether 
wall  of  rocks,  and  the  other  side  glazed  to  command  the 
marvellous  view  which  seems  to  rise  as  the  car  descends, 
just  as  fairy  views  come  up  out  of  the  stage  in  a  trans- 
formation scene  at  the  end  of  a  Christmas  pantomime. 
Then,  suddenly,  the  car  tumbles  into  a  forest,  and  the 
onl}^  view  is  of  the  preposterous  alley  down  which  the 
vehicle  is  rolling  like  a  ball  sent  back  to  the  players  in 
a  bowhng- alley. 

My  task  here  is  to  tell  of  something  that  lies  under 
and  in  that  mountain  view  of  parts  of  seven  Southern 
States,  of  something  the  eye  cannot  see  except  as  a  hint 

'211 


of  it  is  thrown  up  in  the  clouds  of  smoke  and  steam  that 
hang  over  Chattanooga.  That  something  is  the  indus- 
trial awakening  of  the  South,  or  more  particularly  of 
that  part  of  that  section  where  since  the  war  the  coal 
and  iron  buried  in  the  rocks  and  soil  now  meet  their 
resurrection  in  an  activity  that  has  connected  Georgia 
with  Pennsylvania. 

A  very  sage  writer  upon  the  industrial  history  of  the 
South  has  shown  that  early  in  the  century  it  promised 
to  lead  the  other  sections  of  the  country,  but  slavery 
exerted  the  effect  of  humbling  the  artisan  beneath  the 
planter  and  the  professional  man  in  the  general  estima- 
tion. A  wonderful  agricultural  prosperity  was  devel- 
oped, and  mechanical  pursuits  languished.  Up  to  the 
time  of  the  late  war  the  South  did  not  enthrone  cotton. 
The  South  then  gre^v  its  own  meat  and  meal  and  flour. 
But  after  the  war,  when  the  most  frightful  poverty  op- 
pressed the  region,  the  people  turned  to  the  exclusive 
cultivation  of  cotton,  because  that  was  the  only  staple 
that  could  be  mortgaged  in  advance  of  the  crop  to  give 
the  planters  the  means  of  living  until  it  could  be  har- 
vested. The  poverty  of  the  ])lanters,  their  dependence 
on  the  negro,  and  the  shiftlessness  of  the  negro,  which 
led  him  to  favor  cotton  as  the  easiest  crop  to  handle  on 
shares  and  to  borrow  money  upon,  were  the  causes  of 
cotton's  enthronement.  Carpet  -  bag  rule  and  the  de- 
moralization of  the  peculiar  labor  of  the  South  added 
ten  years  to  the  period  of  Southern  prostration,  and  it 
Avas  not  until  1880  that  the  present  great  industrial 
development  of  that  section  began.  It  is  therefore  a 
growth  of  a  dozen  years  —  a  wonderful  growth  for  so 
short  a  time. 

Before  the  war  there  were  a  few  small  furnaces  in 
this  now  busy  district  overlooked  b}^  Chattanooga's 
mountain,  and  formed  of  parts  of  Tennessee,  Alabama, 

212 


and  Georgia.  These  furnaces  were  mainly  on  the  Ten- 
nessee River  and  in  eastern  Tennessee,  and  the  smelting 
was  done  with  charcoal.  The  first  coke  furnace  was 
established  at  Rock  wood  in  1868  with  Northern  capital 
on  Southern  credit.  The  industry  thus  begun  has  con- 
tinued to  be  the  enterprise  of  Southern  men,  for  such 
are  the  majority  of  the  persons  engaged  in  the  business 
— men  of  the  wide-awake  commercial  class.  The  Chat- 
tanooga district,  so  called,  is  in  the  centre  of  a  region  of 
coking  coals  and  iron  ores,  embracing  a  circle  of  150 
miles  in  diameter,  and  covering  parts  of  Tennessee, 
northern  Alabama,  and  northern  Georgia.  It  takes  in 
one  medium-sized  furnace  in  northern  Georgia  and  some 
smaller  ones,  which  number  nineteen,  where  there  were 
none  at  all  before  the  war.  Its  Alabama  section — where 
there  was  no  iron  industry  when  the  war  closed,  except 
at  a  few  little  furnaces  built  by  the  Confederates  to  cast 
their  cannon — now  boasts  fifty -three  large  plants.  In  a 
word,  the  development  has  grown  from  the  smelting  of 
150,000  tons  of  charcoal  and  coke  irons  in  1870  to  the 
making  of  no  less  than  1,800,000  tons  of  pig-iron  in 
1889,  '90,  and  '91.  The  steel  industry  is  prospective. 
The  name  of  the  town  of  Bessemer  is  misleading.  Basic 
steel  has  been  made  in  the  district  from  the  ordinary 
foundry  ore,  and  has  been  tested  by  the  government, 
and  declared  to  be  admirable.  A  mine  of  Bessemer  ore 
has  been  worked  at  Johnson  City,  North  Carolina,  but 
the  capital  for  a  steel-works  to  compete  with  those  of 
the  North  has  not  at  this  time  been  obtained. 

Eighty  per  cent,  of  the  Tennessee  iron  is  sold  in  the 
East,  North,  and  Northwest  —  in  Cleveland,  Chicago, 
St.  Louis,  New  York,  and  Philadelphia.  It  competes 
with  the  best  foundry  iron  for  stove  plates  and  all 
sorts  of  foundr3^-work.  It  ranks  with  the  best  Lehigh 
product,  and  is  the  favorite  iron  with  the  pipe,  plough, 

314 


and  stove  makers  of  the  East  and  North.  Considerable 
foundry -work  is  done  in  the  Chattanooga  district. 
There  are  several  stove- works  there  and  some  machine- 
shops  that  turn  out  both  heavy  and  light  castings. 
There  are  two  large  pipe-works  (in  Chattanooga  and  in 
Bridgeport),  both  owned  by  one  corporation,  and  there 


-..  ^'-y^^It^                     ■'             ,     ,  p^^ 

^m^ 

IgM^a^L^ 

EyffSy>-'gHRji^BWi^'''"*A''i^^ 

^'^^^"^i^mim^mr-^ 

""■"'^is^''-'^' 

=^^     '     ..••■"'^^'^'^^"'^PI^^^^^^BPS'**'" 

1- 

THE  TENNESSEE  RIVER  AT  CHATTANOOGA 


is  also  in  the  district  a  very  large  establishment  for  the 
manufacture  of  railway -brake  shoes  and  other  goods. 

The  region  in  which  the  Chattanooga  district  is  situ- 
ated is  a  reach  of  bituminous  coal  and  red  hematite  iron 
ore  of  limitless  abundance  that  extends  from  Koanoke, 
Virginia,  to  Birmingham,  Alabama.  The  coal  crops  out 
in  "West  Virginia,  crosses  eastern  Kentucky,  where  it  is 
worked  as  pure  cannel,  semi  -  anthracite,  and  bitumi- 
nous ;  crosses  Tennessee  through  the  Tennessee  Valley 
to  northern  Alabama.     It  is  a  belt  containing  26,000 

215 


square  miles  in  three  States,  and  everywhere  the  coal 
and  iron  accompany  each  other  at  pistol  range.  As  an 
illustration,  at  Red  Mountain,  near  Birmingham,  the 
Tennessee  Coal,  Iron,  and  Railway  Company  gets  coal 
on  one  side  of  a  valley  and  iron  on  the  other  side.  This 
great  company  has  several  plants,  and  made  more  than 
400,000  tons  of  pig-iron  in  1891.  It  has  the  largest  coal 
plant  in  the  Chattanooga  district — one  that  has  put  out 
600,000  tons  of  high  -  grade  coking  coal  in  a  year.  Its 
leading  men  are  Southerners,  and  its  capital  is  from  the 
Northern  States  and  England. 

The  labor  in  this  great  industrial  section  is  mainly 
black,  of  course.  The  negroes  dig  all  the  iron  ore  and 
do  all  the  rough  work  at  the  furnaces.  The  coal  is 
mainly  dug  by  white  men.  The  very  great  quantities 
of  limestone  that  are  quarried  for  smelting-flux  and  for 
building  -  work  are  taken  out  by  negroes.  It  is  found 
that  with  what  is  called  "  thorough  foremanizing "  the 
negro  is  satisfactory  at  these  occupations.  He  needs 
strict  and  even  sharp  "bossing"  to  keep  him  at  his 
work,  and  it  has  been  found  that  to  invest  one  of  his 
own  race  with  the  authority  of  an  overseer  is  to  pro- 
duce the  strictest,  even  the  savagest,  kind  of  a  boss. 

The  whole  coal  and  iron  region  suffered  severely 
after  the  Baring  failure  in  London.  During  three  years 
the  price  of  iron  fell  from  $12,  $14  50,  and  $15  a  ton 
down  to  $8  50  and  $7  75,  by  reason  of  excessive  over- 
production. Only  the  few  companies  that  relied  upon 
convict  labor  were  able  to  make  both  ends  meet  at  those 
prices,  and  it  became  painfully  apparent  that  there  is  no 
decent  profit  in  iron-making  at  a  lower  price  than  $10  a 
ton.  The  Southern  industr}?^  suffered  more  severely  than 
it  should  have  done  because  not  enough  of  the  iron  prod- 
uct was  utilized  in  home  manufactures.  The  transition 
from  an  agricultural  to  an  iron-making  district  had  been 

216 


brought  about  too  suddenly,  and  was  allowed  to  go  to 
an  extreme  point.  The  time  was  one  of  money-making 
in  the  iron  industry,  and  the  people  were  led  to  "  boom- 
ing" their  new  industry,  so  that  nearly  ever}^  one  went 
into  the  manufacture  of  pig-iron,  and  too  few  into  the 
conversion  of  it  into  manufactured  goods.  This  will  be 
fully  understood  when  it  is  known  that  not  a  pound  of 
hardware  and  not  a  pound  of  steel  boiler  plate  is  made 
in  the  South.  Where  there  is  room  for  many  large 
stove  factories  there  are  yet  but  a  few  small  ones.  But, 
as  has  been  shown,  the  manufactures  are  started.  Such 
changes  are  brought  about  by  one  thing  at  a  time,  and 
already  in  addition  to  the  Avorks  that  have  been  men- 
tioned there  are  large  works  in  Chattanooga  and  in  At- 
lanta for  the  making  of  ploughs  and  cane  -  mills,  which 
contribute  to  a  trade  that  already  reaches  into  South 
America,  the  East  Indies,  and  Australia. 

The  Tradesman.,  of  Chattanooga,  Tennessee,  the  lead- 
ing authority  upon  Southern  industrial  affairs,  published 
for  its  chief  article  in  its  "  Annual"  for  1893  a  paper  by 
I.  D.  Imboden,  of  Damascus,  Virginia,  which  makes 
very  bold  and  confident  prophecies  for  the  iron  and 
steel  industries  of  the  South,  and  fortifies  them  with 
expert  and  official  government  reports.  This  is  interest- 
ing and  valuable,  at  least  as  showing  how  the  leaders  of 
opinion  in  the  South  feel  upon  the  subject.  He  says 
that  from  his  knowledge  he  forms  a  conclusion  as 
strong  as  if  it  were  mathematical  that  "  the  period  is 
near  when,  as  a  group,  the  States  of  Virginia,  North 
Carolina,  Tennessee,  Georgia,  Alabama,  and  Kentucky 
will  become  the  largest  and  most  successful  iron  and 
steel  producing  district  of  like  area  in  the  w^orld."  He 
adds  that  "contemporaneously  or  ultimately  all  the 
related  industries  will  spring  up  and  flourish  at  every 
exceptionally  favorable  locality  in  these  States,  such  as 

317 


Kichmond,  Lynchburg,  and  Eoanoke,  Ya. ;  Chattanoo- 
ga, ISTashville,  Knoxville,  and  Memphis,  Tenn. ;  Atlanta, 
Ga. ;  Greensboro,  Wihnington,  and  Charlotte,  N.  C. ; 
Birmingham,  Anniston,  and  Decatur,  Ala. ;  Louisville 
and  Covington,  Ky. ;  Wheeling,  Charleston,  and  Hunt- 
ington, W.  Ya. ;  and  at  many  other  points."  He  pre- 
dicts an  eventual  overflow  of  material  for  iron  and 
steel  ship-building  in  the  Atlantic  and  Gulf  seaports, 
thus  extending  to  the  cotton,  rice,  and  tobacco  States 
an  incidental  participation  in  the  inland  mineral  wealth, 
creating  diversified  industries  and  a  larger  home  market 


CHATTANOOGA,  FROM  THE  KIVER 


for  their  crops.  He  answers  "yes"  to  the  important 
question  whether  the  Southern  mineral  region  can  com- 
pete with  the  Northern  mineral  region  in  the  supply  of 
coal  and  iron.  The  mineral  belt  that  underlies  25,000 
square  miles  of  the  Yirginias  extends  into  and  across 
JS^orth  Carolina  and  Tennessee,  carrying  equally  rich  and 
exhaustless  stores  of  iron ;  "  and  even  beyond  -the  south- 

218 


ern  boundaries  of  these  States,  in  Georgia  and  Alabama, 
there  are  supplies  of  these  ores  so  great  that  exhaustion 
will  not  probably  take  place  while  the  human  race  exists." 
Kentucky  he  includes  as  an  ore-producing  State  of  high 
rank.  He  asserts  that  in  recent  years  the  South  has  pro- 
duced a  richer  and  better  coke  than  the  famous  Connells- 
ville  product,  which  is  equalled  nowhere  else  in  the  North. 
The  ]^e\Y  River,  West  Virginia,  coke  was  six  years  ago 
proved  to  be  better  than  the  Connellsville  article ;  but 
farther  southwest,  in  Virginia  and  in  the  same  coal- 
field, a  still  richer  coal  is  found  underlying  Wise  and 
Dickenson  counties  and  extending  far  into  Kentucky. 
"  Taking  the  New  Eiver  field  in  West  Virginia,  the 
Pocahontas  and  Big  Stone  Gap  and  intermediate  basins 
in  Virginia,  and  their  unbroken  extension  into  several 
counties  in  Kentucky  (and  in  the  Cahaba  basin  in  Ala- 
bama), we  have  an  aggregation  of  several  thousand 
square  miles  of  coking  coals  superior  "  (to  that  of  Con- 
nellsville), "  and  so  distributed  as  to  make  a  compara- 
tively short  haul  from  some  one  or  other  of  these  dis- 
tricts to  one  of  our  ore  districts."  This  writer  believes 
that  the  average  haul — an  important  consideration — 
will  be  shorter  in  the  South  than  that  by  which  the 
coal  and  iron  of  the  North  have  been  brought  together. 
He  says  that  six  of  the  seven  States  he  has  named  pos- 
sess an  abundance  of  bituminous  coal,  such  as  is  largely 
used  for  a  lower  but  useful  grade  of  coke.  Southern 
coal  is  much  more  easily  and  cheaply  mined  than  that 
in  the  North,  and  of  the  Southern  iron  ores  the  greater 
part  is  mined,  not  at  the  bottom  of  deep  shafts,  but 
from  the  hill  and  mountain  sides  in  the  full-  hght  of  the 
sun.  He  thinks  that  the  continued  presence  of  negro 
labor  in  such  great  force  in  the  Southern  States  is  "  prov- 
idential." The  negro's  brawn  and  muscle,  his  cheap 
labor,  and  his  acquaintance  and  characteristic  content- 

219 


ment  with  his  surroundings  are  considered  as  a  large 
element  in  the  early  prospective  growth  of  Southern  coal 
and  iron  industries. 

The  last  census  bulletin  upon  the  iron  and  steel  in- 
dustry of  the  South  shows  that  in  the  ten  years  be- 
tween 1880  and  1890  there  has  been  a  remarkable 
growth  of  these  businesses,  and  that  they  have  begun  to 
follow  a  course  of  concentration,  with  the  result  that 
the  capital  invested  in  blast-furnaces  has  increased  from 
sixteen  milHons  to  thirty-three  millions  of  dollars,  while 
the  mone}^  put  into  rolling-mills  and  steel-works  has 
grown  from  eleven  millions  to  seventeen  millions.  The 
output  has  increased  enormously,  and  the  quality  of  the 
product  has  greatly  improved.  In  the  amount  of  cap- 
*ital  invested  Alabama  is  now  "far  in  the  lead,"  Vir- 
ginia is  second,  and  West  Virginia  is  third;  but  West 
Viro-inia  is  close  to  Alabama  in  the  value  of  her  iron 
products,  because  a  larger  proportion  of  her  iron  and 
steel  is  worked  into  valuable  grades  of  finished  prod- 
ucts. In  1880  the  South  produced  nine  per  cent,  of 
the  pig-iron  yield  of  the  whole  country,  but  in  1890  she 
produced  nineteen  per  cent.  Alabama  shows  the  great- 
est increase  in  the  blast-furnace  industrj^  during  the 
decade,  and  Jefferson  County — that  in  which  Birming- 
ham is  situated — is  now  the  most  important  iron-mak- 
ing district  in  the  South.  In  1880  there  were  but  two 
establishments  there,  with  a  capital  of  one  million ; 
now  there  are  ten  such  establishments,  with  a  capital  of 
almost  nine  millions  of  dollars.  Steel-making  has  made 
but  little  progress,  the  government  report  says,  because 
the  Southern  ores  are  generally  unsuitable  for  use  in 
the  established  processes  of  steel-manufacture.  It  is  in- 
sisted, however,  that  good  steel  has  been  made  in  the 
South,  though  whether  it  can  be  made  in  competition 
with  the  North  is  certainly  an  open  question  yet. 

220 


Tennessee  has  more  resources  that  can  be  utilized 
in  manufactures .  than  any  other  one  of  the  Southern 
States,  and  already  she  leads  in  the  possession  of  the 
greater  number  of  manufacturing  towns.  She  is  the 
largest  grain  -  producer 
among  the  Southern 
States,  and  the  output  of 
her  flour  and  grist  mills 
is  so  great  as  to  amount 
to  one-fifth  of  the  total  of 
her  manufactured  prod- 
ucts. Cotton  and  wool- 
len manufacturing  grows 
there  so  rapidly  that  one 
mill  now  turns  out  more 
than  the  whole  State 
produced  ten  years  ago. 
Three  millions  of  dollars 
are  invested  in  twenty 
cotton-mills,  and  the  wool- 
len industry  is  sufficient 
to  produce  $1,250,000 
worth  of  goods,  or  half 
as  much  as  the  manu- 
factured cotton  product 
of  the  State.     Of  tobacco 

and  cotton-seed  oil  production  there  is  a  great  deal,  and 
the  iron  industry  near  Chattanooga  has  an  importance 
that  is  dwelt  upon  elsewhere.  The  State  is  famous  for 
its  manufacture  of  wagons,  which  brought  in  $2,395,000 
in  1892.  Its  cotton  goods  fetched  a  little  more.  No 
less  than  $4,617,000  was  brought  by  its  cotton-seed  oil 
and  other  cotton -seed  products.  Its  distilling  and 
brewing,  its  furniture-making,  and  its  slaughtering  and 
packing,  each  was  worth  $2,000,000  in  1892.     One  mill- 

221 


POINT  LOOKOUT,  LOOKOUT 
MOUNTAIN 


ion  or  more  represents  the  value  in  that  year  of  the 
following  industries :  tin-ware,  manufactured  tobacco  and 
cigars,  woollen  goods,  brick  and  tile,  marble,  clothing, 
saddlery  and  harness -making,  printing  and  publishing, 
and  blacksmithing  and  wheelwright  work.  The  value 
of  other  leading  industries  was  as  follows :  lumber, . 
$10,000,000  ;  flour  and  grist-mill  products,  $17,000,000  ; 
foundry  and  machine-shop  work,  $6,000,000 ;  iron  and 
steel,  $5,000,000  ;  and  leather,  $3,000,000. 

Is  this  dull  reading  ?  Stop  a  bit  and  consider  whether 
such  detailed  accounts  of  the  new  industrial  activity  in  the 
South  do  not  show  that  times  have  changed  since  that 
section  deserved  to  be  ridiculed  and  pitied  for  a  stupid 
and  slavelike  reliance  upon  one  product  of  the  soil. 
And  yet  in  greater  or  less  degree  I  show  the  same  facts 
about  nearly  all  the  Southern  States.  There  are  parts 
of  our  West  of  which  it  can  truly  be  said  that  nearly 
the  entire  reliance  of  the  people  is  upon  silver  ore  or 
upon  wheat ;  but  the  old  indictment  against  the  South 
will  not  stand  anywhere,  except  it  be  in  purely  agri- 
cultural Mississippi;  and  there,  as  I  shall  show,  the 
fruit-growler  and  truck-farmer  are  treading  on  the  ema- 
ciated toes  of  old  King  Cotton. 

Chattanooga  (under  its  veil  of  steam  and  smoke,  and 
backed  against  a  towering  hill  suggestive  of  the  wealth 
of  which  it  is  one  capital)  is  a  city  in  which  a  man  of 
cosmopolitan  training  could  live  without  shock  or  sacri- 
fice. It  and  its  close  suburbs  shelter  nearly  50,000 
persons.  It  is  the  third  city  in  Tennessee,  though  it  is 
more  truly  to  be  considered  in  its  relation  to  the  indus- 
trial district  around  it.  It  is  an  imposing,  clean,  tidy, 
modern,  wide-awake  town.  The  mixture  that  forms 
its  population  has  prevented  the  formation  of  Southern 
types  in  architecture,  dress,  or  any  other  detail,  and  left 
it  what  an  artist  would  call  commonplace,  though  it  is 

222 


SMELTING- WOKKS,  CHATTANOOGA 


in  reality  such  a  city  as  would  be  creditable  to  Cali- 
fornia, Minnesota,  Ohio,  or  Pennsylvania.  It  is  not- 
able among  all  the  smaller  cities  of  the  country  for  its 
well-paved  and  orderly  streets.  Its  principal  tliorough- 
fare  is  floored  with  asphalt,  but  so  many  other  streets 
are  paved  with  fire-brick,  made  near  by,  that  it  may  be 
said  to  be  almost  completely  a  brick  city— brick  below 
as  well  as  above.  All  its  improvements,  like  its  indus- 
tries and  most  of  its  people,  have  come  since  the  war, 
and  it  is  most  pecuhar  in  possessing  a  people  so  largely 
from  the  North  and  West  that  natives  are  very  scarce 
indeed.  It  typifies  the  industrial  region  around  it  by 
its  varied  industries.  Its  manufactures  embrace  ploughs, 
wood- working  factories,  lead  and  slate  pencil  making, 
boiler-works,  electrical  apparatus  manufacture,  stove- 
building,  large  iron -pipe  works,  and  a  great  malleable 

223 


iron  works  that  turns  out  car  -  couplings  and  railway- 
brake  shoes.  It  has  several  flour  -  mills,  a  brewery,  a 
clothing -manufactory,  an  engine  and  machine  works, 
several  foundries,  an  extensive  cotton  compress,  a  tobac- 
co-warehouse, and  the  beginning  of  a  cigar  and  tobacco 
manufacturing  industry  that  must  grow  in  unison  with 
the  new  practice  of  tobacco-raising  b^^  the  farmers  of 
the  neighboring  country. 

Chattanooga  is  a  very  pretty  city,  climbing  two  or 
three  hills  and  abounding  in  view  points  that  take  in 
very  beautiful  land  and  water  scenery,  and  city  vistas 
that  are  parklike.  Of  course  it  has  electric  cars,  and 
floods  of  electric  light  at  night — for  these  new  South- 
ern towns  are  built  by  the  same  spirits  that  dominate 
the  new  West.  It  is  typically  American  also  in  the 
fact  that  every  family  in  it  inhabits  a  separate  house 
with  a  garden  attached.  It  is  distinguished,  like  Brook- 
lyn, by  its  churches.  All  the  considerable  denomina- 
tions have  meeting-houses  there,  and  even  the  Sweden- 
borgians  and  Christian  Scientists  are  in  the  list.  Some 
of  these  edifices  are  ver}^  handsome.  The  Opera-house 
and  the  home  of  the  Mountain  City  Club  are  deserving 
of  equal  praise,  and  all  alike  speak  volumes  for  the 
taste  and  refinement  of  the  dominant  element  of  the 
population.  Its  people,  its  progressive  government,  and 
its  proud  educational  system  are  deserving  of  extended 
mention,  but  the  limits  of  each  subject  in  a  chapter  that 
aims  to  cover  so  busy  and  wude  a  territory  are  too  nar- 
row to  make  this  possible. 

Students  of  the  progress  of  the  State  of  Alabama 
show  that  it  has  made  greater  industrial  advance  in  the 
twelve  months  of  1892-93  than  in  any  preceding  twenty 
years  of  its  history.  This  is  true  alike  of  her  manu- 
factures, agriculture,  commerce,  and  railroads.  In  the 
utilization  of  her  mineral  resources  she  has  accomplished 

224 


relatively,  greater  progress  than  any  State  in  the  Union. 

Her  iron  productions  constitute  a  third  of  her  output, 

and  have  led  to  the  establishment  of  her  rolling-mills, 

machine-shops,  pipe-foundries,  and  the 

rest,  though  it  is  still  true  that  the 

State  sends  out  far  too  much 

of  her  iron  for  manufacture 

elsewhere   into    goods 

whose  home  man- 


c'Ao-^m:^, 


ENTRANCE   TO  A   COAL  MINE 


ufacture  would,  and  will  yet,  greatly  swell  her  rev- 
enues. But,  apart  from  her  mineral  resources,  she  has 
trebled  her  cotton  -  mill  output,  multiplied  her  cotton- 
seed  produce  by  eight,  and  gone  largely  into  the  manu- 
facture of  lumber  and  wooden  articles,  agricultural  im- 

235 


plements,  boots  and  shoes,  wagons,  furniture,  flour  and 
meal,  and  naval  stores.  The  State  stands  fourth  in  the 
South  in  the  manufacture  of  cotton  goods.  In  two 
years  previous  to  January  1,  1893,  she  added  nearly 
2000  looms  and  more  than  100,000  spindles  to  her  mill- 
ing facilities.  In  1880  she  had  invested  $3,300,000  in 
her  iron  industries,  but  in  1890  this  sum  had  been 
swelled  to  $19,000,000.  In  1892  she  furnished  more 
than  5,000,000  tons  of  coal,  or  more  than  one -fifth  of 
the  entire  Southern  coal  product,  and  led  all  her  sister 
States  except  West  Virginia.  She  is  the  fifth  coal- 
producing  State  in  the  Union.  Of  coke  her  produc- 
tion in  1891  was  about  1,300,000  short  tons. 

The  census  shows  that  the  increase  of  population  in 
the  last  decade  was  a  little  less  than  20  per  cent.,  but 
the  assessed  valuation  of  real  estate  in  Alabama  in- 
creased 60.40  per  cent.,  and  the  enrolment  of  children 
in  the  public  schools  increased  61.53  per  cent.  North- 
ern Alabama  has  felt  the  first  tide  of  immigration  to 
the  South  more  strongly  than  any  other  section  of  equal 
extent.  Birmingham  is  said  to  have  been  a  farm  at  the 
close  of  the  rebellion,  and  busy  Anniston  was  a  group 
of  timbered  hills  very  much  later  than  that.  There  is  a 
truly  Western  flavor  to  the  history  of  a  land  company 
in  one  of  these  cities.  It  divided  more  than  $5,500,000 
with  its  stockholders  in  a  little  more  than  five  years, 
upon  an  investment  of  $100,000. 

The  new  city  of  Birmingham  in  1880  had  60  estab- 
lishments and  27  industries,  and  in  189Q  its  establish- 
ments numbered  417  and  its  industries  48,  while  the  cap- 
ital invested  had  swelled  from  two  millions  to  seven 
millions  of  dollars.  Its  leading  workshops  are  carriage 
and  wagon  factories,  foundries,  and  machine-shops,  three 
iron  and  steel  working  plants,  planing-mills,  and  print- 
ing and  publishing  works.     In  what  is  known  as  the 


Birmingham  district  there  are  25  iron-furnaces,  with  a 
capacity  for  2600  tons  of  pig-iron  daily.  All  are  within 
twenty  miles  of  the  town.  Consolidations  of  large  com- 
panies have  recently  strengthened  this  remarkable  iron 
centre,  adding  to  the  economy  with  which  its  products 
are  obtained,  and  fitting  it  to  meet  a  dull  market  better 
than  before.  Experts  have  declared  that  several  of  the 
works  at  this  place  stand  as  models  in  judicious  con- 
struction and  economical  results  to  the  whole  country 
and  to  Europe  also.  Some  are  so  favorably  located 
near  ore  and  coal  that  it  has  been  proved  that  nowhere 
in  this  country,  and  scarcely  anywhere  in  Europe,  can 
iron  be  made  as  cheaply  as  they  can  make  it.  These 
facts  are  of  interest  as  showing  the  permanency  and  value 
of  the  industry  which  has  revolutionized  northern  Ala- 
bama. It  has  not  only  come  to  stay,  but  it  has  come  to 
grow.  During  the  summer  of  1892  the  furnace  men 
there  were  put  to  a  severe  test.  They  had  to  make 
iron  at  a  minimum  or  shut  up  their  works.  They  did 
make  it,  and  only  the  smaller  furnaces  shut  down  for  a 
time;  the  larger  ones  ran  on  steadily,  and  without 
losing  money.  Their  owners  assert  that  this  experience 
proved  that  Alabama  can  make  iron  cheaper  than  it  can 
be  made  in  Pennsylvania. 

Wherever  coal,  limestone,  and  iron  are  found  close 
together  the  situation  is  favorable  for  the  economical 
production  of  pig-iron ;  and  as  that  condition  distin- 
guishes a  large  part  of  northern  Alabama,  the  extension 
of  the  industrial  activity  of  the  Birmingham  district  is 
confidently  looked  for.  On  this  account  the  capital  of 
some  shrewd  Northern  men  has  been  invested  in  a 
promising  new  town  —  midway  between  Birmingham 
and  Chattanooga  —  called  Wyeth  City,  It  is  on  the 
Tennessee  Kiver,  which  is  600  yards  in  width  at  that 
point,  and  offers  uninterrupted  navigation  to  the  Ohio 

228 


and  Mississippi  and  their  tributaries.  Tiie  railroad  from 
Brunswick,  Georgia,  makes  Wyeth  City  the  nearest  to 
the  Atlantic  coast  of  any  point  upon  the  tremendous 
inland  water  system  of  the  Mississippi  and  its  connec- 
tions. The  railway  facilities  at  Wyeth  City  are  also 
excellent.  The  Nashville  and  Chattanooga  liailroad,  one 
of  the  best-equipped  and  most  progressive  roads  in  the 
South,  has  built  into  the  new  city,  and  work  is  being 
pushed  upon  two  local  railroads — all  of  which  place  the 
new  city  on  the  direct  route  from  Brunswick,  on  the 
Atlantic  coast,  to  Nashville,  St.  Louis,  and  the  North- 
west, and  from  New  Orleans  and  Mobile  to  Cincinnati 
and  the  North  and  East.  The  Louisville  and  Nashville 
system  is  soon  to  meet  the  Nashville  and  Chattanooga 
at  this  point. 

I  never  want  to  miss  a  chance  to  combat  the  idea 
that  the  waste  lands  of  the  South  are  sterile,  and  the 
worked  lands  are  played  out.  This  theory  has  taken  a 
deep  hold  upon  a  large  part  of  the  popular  mind,  and  is 
kept  alive  by  able  men  who  command  influential  ave- 
nues to  the  public  ear,  though  why  they  do  so  I  do  not 
understand.  I  have  found  that  the  most  prosperous 
farmers  in  the  South,  and  perhaps  in  the  United  States, 
are  operating  on  the  tide-water  lands  of  North  Carolina, 
and  that  trucking  and  fruit-growing  in  the  sandy  soil  of 
the  Piny  Woods  land  of  Louisiana  and  Mississippi  are 
accompanied  by  the  very  brightest  prospects.  I  have 
no  other  master  to  serve  than  the  truth,  and  the  plain 
truth  is  that  the  reason  I  cannot  declare  the  major  part 
of  that  country  gladdened  by  prosperous  farming  is  that 
the  South  has  not  tried  to  attract  poor  immigrants,  that 
her  enemies  and  critics  have  kept  them  from  going  there 
unbidden,  that  the  swarms  of  semi-idle  and  parasitic 
negroes  stand  in  the  way  of  better  brawn  and  muscle, 
and  that  the  total  new  or  foreign- born  part  of  the  popu- 

230 


lation  of  nineteen  million  souls  in  those  States  is  less 
than  three  per  cent. — is  almost  nil  in  some  of  the  States. 
And  yet  there  are  examples  of  what  can  be  done 
there — strawlike  in  dimensions  though  they  be.  Let 
me  condense  the  facts  given  by  Mr.  Thurston  H.  Allen 
in  a  recent  issue  of  the  Manufacturers'  Record  respect- 


COURT-HOUSE,  CHATTANOOGA 

ing  an  instance  in  Alabama.  In  1878,  he  says,  the  Eev. 
Father  Huser,  a  German  Catholic  priest,  bought  a  tract 
of  two  thousand  acres  of  worn-out  land  known  as  the 
Wilson  Plantation,  in  St.  Florian,  Lauderdale  County, 
Alabama.  It  had  grown  cotton  exclusively  till  at  last 
it  was  abandoned  to  broom-sedge  and  briars,  and  pro- 
nounced worthless.  The  priest  got  it  for  four  dollars  an 
acre. 

"Dr.  Huser  built  a  church  and  a  school -house,  and  in  1878  divided 
the  plantation  into  tracts  of  from  ten  to  fifty  acres  each,  and  placed 

231 


thereon  some  forty-five  families,  all  German  Catholics,  from  Pennsyl- 
vania, Ohio,  Illinois,  New  York,  and  other  States,  to  whom  he  sold 
these  lands  at  from  $8  to  $15  per  acre,  according  to  location  and  im- 
provements. These  colonists  had  experienced  the  rigors  of  the  North- 
ern and  Western  climates  with  the  certainty  of  cold  and  diought. 

"They  were  all  poor;  their  industry  elsewhere  had  not  hitherto 
availed  them  to  any  great  extent.  It  had  taken  all  the  fruits  of  their 
labor  to  sustain  them  up  to  this  time,  so  that  most,  if  not  all  of  them, 
were  forced  to  go  in  debt  for  their  land.  Some  of  those  who  are  now 
the  most  prosperous  and  independent  commenced  with  mortgages 
upon  their  lands,  and  with  but  one  mule  or  steer  with  which  to  break 
and  cultivate  the  soil." 

To  add  to  their  troubles,  there  was  a  defalcation  which 
compelled  them  to  pay  twice  for  part  of  their  holdings. 
They  nursed  the  dead  land  back  to  life,  and  built  houses, 


FIRST  BAPTIST   CHURCH,  CHATTANOOGA 

fences,  and  improvements ;   but  wood  was  cheap,  the 
winters  were  mild,  they  could  w^ork  all  the  3^ear  round, 

233 


POST-OFFICE,  BIRMINGHAM 


and  they  needed  to  spend  little  for  clothing.     The  long 
summers  brought  them  tAVO  crops  instead   of  one. 

"Vineyards  and  orchards  were  planted,  and  it  was  not  long  before 
a  general  improvement  began  to  be  apparent  not  only  in  tbe  lands, but 
in  the  condition  of  the  colonists  themselves.  As  they  gradually  be- 
came more  independent  they  built  better  houses  and  larger  barns, 
adopted  improved  machinery  and  raised  better  stock,  until  to-day  I  am 
informed  that  there  is  not  a  family  among  them  that  is  in  debt.  They 
raise  almost  everything  tliey  need  upon  their  own  land,  and  always 
have  something  to  sell.  They  pay  cash  for  what  they  buy  and  ask 
credit  of  no  man.  Their  houses  are  comfortable,  their  barns  and  barn- 
yards in  good  order,  their  fences  substantial,  their  horses,  mules,  and 
cattle  fat  and  sleek;  their  lands  bring  them  every  year  abundant  crops 
of  wheat  at  the  rate  of  twenty  bushels  to  the  acre  without  the  use  of 
commercial  fertilizers),  corn,  Irish  potatoes,  clover,  millet,  vegetables 
of  all  kinds,  while  their  vineyards  afford  enormous  yields  of  grapes, 
much  of  wliich  is  made  into  wine  of  a  good  quality,  for  which  there 
is  ready  sale," 

In  1878  the  played-out  land  brought  four  dollars  an 

233 


acre,  and  many  a  laugh  and  shrug  of  the  neighborhood 
shoulders.  To-day  it  is  rated  at  fifty  dollars  an  acre. 
One  may  say  that  there  was  as  much  in  the  patience 
and  industry  and  thrift  of  those  settlers  as  there  was  in 
the  soil,  and,  indeed,  those  are  wonder-breeding  quali- 
ties ;  but  they  will  not  enable  a  man  to  raise  double 
crops  in  the  summer  even  in  the  rich  Ked  Kiver  Yalley 
of  Minnesota.  They  won't  enable  a  man  to  work  out- 
of-doors  most  of  the  year,  not  even  in  Ohio. 

The  palace-car  in  which  I  rode  from  Chattanooga  to 
Atlanta  represented  something  more  than  a  mere  vehi- 
cle to  me,  and  so  does  every  palace-car  to  every  constant 
or  frequent  traveller.  If  there  are  forty-four  States  in 
the  Union,  the  palace-car  stands  for  a  forty-fifth.  True, 
it  is  all-pervasive  and  common  to  all,  like  the  atmos- 
phere or  the  national  flag,  the  Derby  hat  and  the  re- 
volver, but  it  is  still  a  creation  by  itself,  which,  taken 
largely,  constitutes  a  very  great  area  of  space  and  a  dis- 
tinctive condition  and  routine  of  daily  life  separate  and 
apart  from  that  in  the  other  States.  It  has  its  own  dis- 
tinctive population,  its  own  peculiar  etiquette  ;  its  con- 
ventions, its  three  classes  of  citizens  (conductor,  porter, 
and  passengers),  even  the  food  that  its  inhabitants  live 
upon,  all  differ  from  those  in  the  rest  of  the  States  of 
the  republic.  I  have  called  the  palace -car  common- 
wealth all-pervasive,  like  an  atmosphere,  and  yet  it  even 
has  an  atmosphere  of  its  own — a  hot  African  air  that  is 
seldom  changed  or  freshened,  and  that  is  gotten  ingen- 
iously either  out  of  the  sun  or  out  of  a  stove,  according 
to  the  season  of  the  year  in  the  outer  world,  by  a  unan- 
imous army  of  negroes,  who  insist,  with  a  loyalty  that 
pales  enthusiasm,  upon  carrying  the  climate  of  the  Congo 
wherever  they  may  go. 

Persons  of  microscopic  intellect  would  remind  the 
writer  that  there  are  two  sorts  of  palace-cars  —  the 

234 


Wagner  and  the  Pullman ;  but  since  they  differ  only  in 
the  buttons  and  cap  plates  of  the  servants,  and  in  the 
presence  of  a  fish-net  stretched  across  the  bunks  that  is 
found  in  one  sort  and  not  in  the  other,  it  is  not  worth 
while  to  make  the  mistake  of  dividing  this  new  State  of 
the  Union  into  a  IS'orth  Palace  and  a  South  Palace,  as 
was  done  with  even  less  reason  with  the  Territory  of 
Dakota  when  that  was  taken  into  the  Union.  JS^o  ;  the 
Palace-car  State  is  one  commonwealth,  indivisible  and 
alike  in  all  its  parts.  I  will  admit  that  it  is  viewed  dif- 
ferently in  different  parts  of  the  country.  Even  the  con- 
stant traveller  who  has  lived  enough  of  his  life  in  it  to  be 
able  to  vote  there,  if  the  right  of  suffrage  were  extended 
to  its  people,  regards  it  with  varying  moods  in  diflfering 
localities.  Between  New  York  or  Boston  and  Chicago 
he  looks  out  of  its  windows  at  the  splendid  homes  and 
hotels  of  New  York,  Ohio,  and  Illinois  with  regret  that 
he  is  hurrying  by  them,  and  that,  when  the  time  comes, 
he  must  eat  in  the  car,  taking  chicken  a  la  Marengo  or 
baked  pork  and  beans  this  time,  because  he  chose  the 
mutton  stew,  the  only  other  hot  dish,  for  his  last  meal. 
But  I  know^  one  resident  of  the  Palace-car  State  who 
has  deliberately  left  a  mining  town  in  Montana  on 
Christmas  to  clamber  joyously  into  a  palace-car  solely 
in  order  to  breathe  its  familiar  Congo  air,  to  wag  be- 
tween the  velvet  cushions  of  his  Lower  Six  and  the 
similar  cushions  of  the  smoking  compartment,  to  eat 
the  chicken  a  la  Marengo  with  an  added  pint  6f  claret, 
solely  because  of  a  sentimental  yearning  for  the  same 
sort  of  a  Christmas,  poor  fellow,  that  others  were  hav- 
ing at  home  in  the  East. 

As  the  porter  drew  the  customary  pillows  out  of  the 
walls  of  the  car  and  scattered  them  about,  and  knelt 
and  brushed  the  carpet  around  the  passengers'  feet,  and 
as  the  conductor  leaned  over  the  settee  that  held  the 

236 


usual  solitary  woman  passenger  and  grinned  and  chatted 
with  her,  the  sentimental  journeyer  thought  how  strange 
it  w^as  that  in  every  part  of  the  land  the  palace-car  held 
to  its  population,  selecting  it  everywhere  from  the  vary- 
ing masses  of  the  people.  He  need  not  have  thought 
about  it ;  he  had  only  to  look  out  of  the  windows  and 
witness  the  process  of  selection  at  each  station.  The 
soft  hats  went  into  the  other  cars;  the  beavers  and' 
Derbys  came  into  the  palace-car.  The  hoods  and  shawls 
went  elsewhere,  but  the  French  bonnets  and  seal-skins 
and  modish  gowns  all  swept  into  the  palace-car.  Not  a 
pair  of  boots  was  there  on  any  platform  but  was  sure  to 
lead  its  owner  to  the  ordinary  coaches ;  and  so  it  was 


MARIETTA  STREET,  ATLANTA 


with  the  Indians,  the  negroes,  the  flat-faced  Swedish 
laborers,  and  the  poor  toihng  women  with  the  tagging 
children.  All  went  into  the  other  coaches,  and  left  the 
sentimental   journeyer   surrounded   by   a   people   that 


237 


never  can  be  better  described  than  when  they  are  called 
the  inhabitants  of  the  Palace-car  State ;  the  same  in 
looks,  manners,  dress,  and  tastes,  whether  they  board 
the  palace-car  in  Montana  or  New  Jersey — the  conven- 
tional folks  —  the  men  who  smoke  cigars  and  wear 
gloves,  and  the  women  who  wear  furs  and  read  the 
magazines. 

They  are  perfectly  at  home,  as  persons  of  one  region 
are  apt  to  be  when  they  are  where  they  belong.  They 
greet  the  conductor  with  "  Well,  it's  as  hot  as  usual 
here,"  and  they  say  to  the  porter,  "  You  need  not  bring 
the  bill  of  fare ;  I  know  it  by  heart."  At  night  they 
catch  the  white  eye  of  the  Afric- American,  and  remark, 
"  Feet  towards  the  engine,  you  know."  When  they  con- 
verse with  one  another  they  tell  how  tired  the}^  used  to 
become  on  the  first  day  out,  but  that  now  they  could 
ride  a  year  without  minding  it.  They  add  that  at  first 
they  made  it  a  rule  to  get  out  and  walk  at  each  divi- 
sional terminus  where  the  engines  were  changed,  but 
that  they  soon  found  that  all  depot  sheds  were  disagree- 
able alike,  and  as  for  the  exercise  —  well,  a  bottle  of 
Apollinaris  in  the  morning  or  a  Seidlitz-powder  answers 
instead.  But  the  people  of  the  forty-fifth  State  of  the 
Union  are  not  given  to  making  one  another's  acquaint- 
ance. Their  situation  is  not  so  novel  and  unfamiliar  as 
to  break  the  bonds  of  custom,  like  that  of  persons 
aboard  an  ocean  liner.  The  one  object  of  the  inhabi- 
tants of  the  Palace-car  State  is  to  achieve  a  lethargic, 
semi-comatose  condition,  and  loll  the  length  of  the  rail- 
way, minding  nobody's  affairs,  resenting  all  outside  ef- 
forts to  mind  theirs,  and  capable  of  rousing  to  a  normal 
activity  and  interest  in  life  only  ^vhen  the  train  passes 
the  debris  of  a  collision-wreck,  or  rushes  through  a 
prairie  fire,  or  a  fire  in  an  autumn  forest. 

In  many  respects  the  Palace-car  State  is  the  best  feat- 

238 


ure  of  Southern  travel ;  indeed,  nothing  else  enables  one 
to  enjoy  the  beauties  of  that  section  and  ignore  its  blem- 
ishes so  well  as  does  the  palace-car.  This  is  because  the 
main  blemishes  of  the  South  are  its  bad  hotels.  Until 
very  lately  the  few  "  best  hotels  "  in  the  South — such  as 
the  Charleston,  the  Ballard  Exchange,  the  Roy  ale,  and 
the  St.  Charles  —  were  all  as  old  as  the  Astor  House, 
and  had  the  added  and  general  defect  of  serving  only 
fried  food.  There  are  new  hotels  just  now  at  Savannah, 
Atlanta,  St.  Augustine,  New  Orleans,  and  one  or  two 
other  places ;  otherwise  the  South  still  stands  in  need 
of  a  general  reform. 

In  the  Palace-car  State  of  the  Union  there  are  per^ 
haps  twenty  counties  that  possess  little  smoking-car 
libraries,  containing  the  earlier  works  of  Messrs.  How- 
ells,  Stockton,  Harte,  Clemens,  and  Hale,  but  the  great 
majority  of  rolling  villages,  towns,  and  counties  offer 
but  one  book  for  the  distraction  of  the  mind  and  the 
elevation  thereof.  That  is  the  Hotel  Directory.  Hav- 
ing nothing  half  so  good  to  do,  after  the  lamps  were  lit 
and  the  shades  were  drawn  down,  during  this  journey 
from  Chattanooga  to  Atlanta,  I  took  this  directory  on 
my  lap  and  counted  the  hotels  at  which  I  had  stopped — 
one  time  or  many — in  the  other  forty -four  States  of  the 
Union.  I  found  that  the  inn  to  which  I  was  going  in 
Atlanta  would  become  the  two  hundred  and  eighty- 
fourth  hostelry  on  my  list.  What  a  volume  of  reminis- 
cence that  discovery  suggested !  A  genius,  an  inspired 
instrument  of  kindly  fate,  whispered  that  there  was  a 
new  hotel  in  Atlanta.  To  it  I  went,  and  entered  a  blaze 
of  electric  light  that  shone  upon  resplendent  plate-glass 
and  gilding  and  marble.  Then  to  my  room  to  find  it 
better  than  I  would  have  ordered  it  had  I  the  fairy  gift 
of  making  my  way  by  wishing.  It  was  a  symphony  of 
w^hite  lace  curtains,  creamy  Wilton  carpet,  carved-oak 

240 


furniture  of  the  sort  that  proclaims  Grand  Kapids,  Mich- 
igan, the  mother  of  art  and  comfort,  a  great  snow-white 
bed,  and  hovering  about,  with  a  touch  of  a  feather-duster 


THE   GRADY   MONUMENT,  ATLANTA 


here  and  a  touch  of  it  there,  a  white  chambermaid  in-  a 
mob-cap — the  only  white  chambermaid  I  ever  saw  in  the 
South.  There  were  well-chosen  etchings  on  the  warmly 
tinted  walls.  There  was  a  reading-lamp  at  the  head  of 
the  immaculate  bed.  The  battery  of  toilet  ware  upon 
the  pretty  wash-stand  was  pretty  enough  to  stop  all  the 
women  in  the  streets  had  it  been  exposed  in  a  shop-win- 
dow. It  did  not  seem  possible.  It  was  like  a  trick  of 
the  mind — a  dream  taken  standing. 

Then  the  dining-room  !  If  I  had  been  obliged  to  de- 
scribe it  while  the  full  effect  of  its  first  burst  of  splendor 
was  upon  me,  the  reader  would  suspect  either  my  verac- 
ity or  my  brain,  for  remember  I  had  lived  upon  corn 
pone  and  bacon  and  bacon  and  corn  pone,  with  occa- 
sional interruptions  of  fried  cliicken,  for  nearly  a  month. 
Q  341 


The  ample,  brilliant  room,  the  swift,  silent  waiters,  the 
white  damask,  the  crystal,  the  plate,  the  broad  hospita- 
ble chairs,  the  fashion-plate  ladies  with  shining  evening 
faces,  each  face  between  great  shoulder-puffs  of  silks — 
these  were  the  surprises  that  rushed  upon  my  vision. 
And  then  the  bill  of  fare !  Blue  Points  led  the  elegant 
minuet,  and  consomme  with  marrow  balls  was  the  first 
fair  partner.  Then  came  smelts  with  tartare  sauce,  but 
without  any  final  e  on  the  name  of  the  sauce,  that  hav- 
ing been  lost  in  the  long  journey  from  France.  Among 
the  several  sets  that  took  their  places  in  this  gastro- 
nomic function  were  many  such  familiar  cosmopolitans 
as  young  turkey  and  calf's  head  with  brown  sauce,  and 
mushrooms  and  olives,  banana  ice-cream,  six  sorts  of 
cheeses,  every  approved  wine,  nuts  and  raisins  and 
candy  with  the  pastry.  Having  eaten  many  times  but 
never  dined,  I  fear  I  misbehaved,  and  at  the  last  I  scat- 
tered silver  like  a  Kussian  roue,  giving  a  quarter  to  the 
waiter,  another  to  the  wine-boy,  one  to  the  head  waiter, 
ten  cents  to  the  sable  reminder  of  the  court  of  Louis 
XY.  who  handed  round  the  hats,  and  barely  succeeded 
in  holding  back  a  dime  from  the  portly  man  who  asked 
if  I  had  dined  well,  and  who  lost  the  money  by  explain- 
ing that  he  was  the  manager  of  the  hotel.  In  this  age 
of  introspective  analysis  and  psychologic  literature  it  is 
as  well  to  put  on  record  the  sensations  of  an  impression- 
able traveller  upon  encountering  a  good  hotel. 

The  old  soldier  who,  in  revisiting  each  spot  where  he 
served  under  fire,  fights  his  battles  over  again  before  his 
younger  friends,  will  be  puzzled  how  to  play  his  role  in 
Atlanta.  What  w^as  a  village  when  General  Sherman 
destroyed  it  now  spreads  over  a  city's  area.  For  At- 
lanta is  truly  a  fine,  substantial,  genuine,  bustling  city. 
It  is  the  busy,  throbbing  heart  of  a  revolutionized  re- 
gion that  includes  the  best  parts  of  several  States.     It 

242 


does  not  grow  upon  —  it  bursts  upon  the  visitor.  He 
alights  from  the  cars  in  a  noisy,  crowded,  smoke-grimed 
depot,  and  sees  that  his  is  but  one  of  many  trains — to 
New  York,  to  New  Orleans,  to  the  West,  and  to  smaller 
places  nearer  by.  Leaving  the  depot,  he  finds  himself 
in  a  solid,  imposing,  genuine  city,  built  of  brick,  paved 
with  stone,  thick  with  towering  buildings.  It  is  West- 
ern, rather  than  Northern  or  Eastern,  and  the  first  im- 
pression is  that  it  is  Chioagoesque ;  but  it  is  so  only  in 
the  older  parts.  The  newer  districts  are  much  more 
suggestive  of  Denver — clean  and  tasteful  and  artistic. 
However,  that  is  not  borne  in  upon  the  visitor's  faculties 
until  he  has  entered  the  newest  ofiice  buildings  and  the 
newest  hotels  and  theatres,  and  seen  how  rich  and  yet 
how  chaste  and  well  controlled  is  the  use  of  costly 
material  and  the  distribution  of  ornament.  The  Ara- 
gon,  the  Equitable  Building,  the  Opera-house,  and  more 
than  one  of  the  bank  buildings  might  all  have  been 
built  for  Denver,  the  parlor  or  Pullman  city  of  America. 
Atlanta  is  the  commercial  distributing  centre  for  the 
southeastern  part  of  our  country.  It  is  both  old  and 
new.  It  was  first  settled  in  1839,  and  presently  was 
christened  Terminus.  Then  it  became  Marthasville,  and 
in  1847  it  took  the  name  Atlanta.  It  was  destroyed 
in  1864  —  an  occurrence  that  no  more  hinders  the 
growth  of  American  cities  than  heavy  showers  disturb 
so  many  ducks.  New  York  and  Boston  have  been  all 
but  burned  up,  and  Chicago  and  Atlanta  quite  so,  yet 
such  trifles  soon  turn  to  memories,  and  then  to  mere 
sentences  in  the  local  histories.  I  take  it  that  the  most 
interesting  thing  about  Atlanta  is  that  —  even  to  a 
greater  extent  than  this  has  been  true  of  Chicago  dur- 
ing many  years — it  is  a  city  wherein  every  man  works 
for  his  living.  The  bustle  in  the  wholesale  and  the 
retail  business  streets,  and  the  eternal  whiz-ziz-ziz  of  the 

243 


electric  cars  that  run  upon  seventy-four  miles  of  streets, 
typify  and  emphasize  this  feature  that  seems  so  peculiar 
to  us  of  the  older  cities.  Nine  steam  railway  lines 
meet  in  the  black,  iron-mouthed  railway  depot,  which  is 
in  the  precise  centre  of  a  circular  area  of  buildings  and 
streets — a  circle  nearly  four  miles  in  diameter.  Within 
this  area  is  all  that  should  complete  a  city,  and  more 
besides,  for  the  imposing  State  Capitol  is  one  of  the  in- 
stitutions it  contains,  and  besides  there  is  a  notable  col- 
lection of  educational  foundations,  including  several 
private  medical  colleges,  a  dental  college,  a  law-school, 
several  seminaries  for  girls,  and  two  collegiate  schools 
for  boys,  six  institutions  for  the  tuition  of  negroes,  two 
libraries,  and  the  State  Technological  School  of  Georgia. 
Of  church  buildings  there  are  no  less  than  ninety-eight. 
The  piety  of  the  masses  of  the  Southern  people  is  suffi- 
ciently remarkable  to  be  worthy  a  chapter  by  itself,  and 
it  is  thus  reflected  in  this  work-a-day  capital.     Grant 


THE  X.AKE,  GRANT  PARK,  ATLANTA 
244 


Park,  the  popular  pleasure-ground,  is,  I  suspect,  the  most 
ambitious  city  play-ground  in  the  South,  and  will  hold 
its  rank  if  the  people  have  their  will  with  it. 

But  it  is  as  a  commercial  and  manufacturing  city  that 
Atlanta  must  get  the  most  praise  and  excite  the  greatest 
wonder.  According  to  the  most  reliable  figures  I  could 
obtain  the  city  contains  225  wholesale  mercantile  houses, 
which  transact  an  annual  business  of  $95,000,000.  The 
city  also  operates  six  hundred  and  forty-odd  manufacto- 
ries that  are  capitalized  at  about  $20,000,000.  It  is  close 
to  coal  and  iron,  workable  clays,  and  soft  and  hard  wood 
forests,  and  these  materials  enter  most  largely  into  the 
local  manufactures.  All  these  are  growing,  and  the  an- 
nual investments  in  new  buildings  reach  deep  into  the 
millions. 

Yery  like  so  many  Western  folks — that  is  to  say,  very 
American — are  the  business  men  of  the  city.  Nowhere 
else  in  the  South  do  the  methods  of  the  merchants  and 
manufacturers  carry  so  many  reminders  of  what,  w^hen 
we  see  it  elsewhere,  we  call  the  "hustling"  spirit.  As 
an  illustration,  I  have  at  hand  an  appeal  to  the  Atlanta 
City  Council  for  an  appropriation  of  $10,000  for  the 
Manufacturers'  Association,  which  claims  to  represent 
about  $10,000,000  in  factories  and  other  property.  Its 
members  say  they  want  to  spend  the  appropriation  and 
twice  as  much  of  their  own  raising  to  "  put  Atlanta- 
made  goods  in  every  retail  store  in  Georgia,  and  induce 
our  people  to  patronize  home  industries  and  keep  Georgia 
money  in  Georgia."  They  promised  to  keep  at  home 
millions  of  dollars  a  month  that  were  then  spent 
in  purchasing  elsewhere  goods  that  are  made  and 
could  be  bought  at  home,  and  they  add  that  they 
"can  duplicate  any  order  in  the  world"  (the  West- 
ern hustlers  never  stop  short  of  "  the  world  "  in  their 
similes)  "  for  the  same  money.     We  can  do  it,  we  are 

245 


^■-   ■■■  •  ^ISsi 


x^,-:m 


.^^■ 


■^i. 


■^ 


m  1  /^j^. ,  JMi^tk 

i 

\-  m '- '                       .^ i.jkMiiMiH^^^^^^^^^^? .aJflWililliiii 

THE  ZOOLOGICAL  GARDEN  AT  GRANT  PARK,  ATLANTA 


doing  it,  and  we  want  to  teach  that  fact  to  the  con- 
sumers." In  one  respect  Atlanta  will  disappoint  the  idle 
traveller ;  it  is  not  typically  Southern.  The  strongest 
proof  it  offers  to  the  eye  of  being  in  the  South  is  in  the 
multitude  of  negroes  in  the  streets,  and,  of  course,  in  its 
mild  winter  climate.  The  climate  reaches  neither  ex- 
treme of  heat  or  cold,  and  although  the  city  is  upon  a 
considerable  elevation  above  the  sea,  it  has  had  winters 
without  snow,  though  a  little  which  melts  almost  as  it 
falls  is  expected  there  each  year.  Its  negroes  are  fewer 
than  one  would  expect  to  find,  and  though  there  are 
other  such  cities,  it  is  the  only  place  where  my  attention 
has  been  called  to  the  fact  that  white  and  black  men 
work  together — not  merely  in  mixed  gangs  of  unskilled 
men  sweeping  the  streets  and  digging  the  cellars,  but 

246 


just  such  parti-colored  bands  of  skilled  workmen  also, 
for  Atlanta  has  both  black  and  white  masons,  brickla\^- 
ers,  carpenters,  and  artisans  of  other  sorts. 

In  the  years  between  18S0  and  1890  the  manufactures 
of  Georgia  were  exactly  doubled  in  value.  The  articles 
which  return  millions  of  revenue  each  are  brick  and  tile, 
carpentering,  road  vehicles,  cars,  cotton  goods,  fertilizers, 
flour  and  meal,  foundry  and  machine-shop  work,  iron 
and  steel,  liquors,  lumber,  cotton-seed  products,  rice-clean- 
ing, tar,  turpentine,  and  naval  stores.  Agricultural  im- 
plements, leather,  and  printing  and  publishing,  each 
brings  nearly  a  million  a  year. 

Improved  methods  of  farming  have  greatly  raised  the 
yield  of  cotton,  and  the  general  agricultural  prosperity 
is  indicated  by  the  fact  that  forty-two  per  cent,  of  the 
farmers  own  their  farms,  all  but  four  per  cent,  of  this 
number  having  them  free  and  clear  of  encumbrance. 
The  fifty -eight  per  cent,  of  non  owners  are,  of  course, 
the  negroes,  who  rent  or  farm  on  shares.  There  are  less 
than  1,000,000  w^hites  in  Georgia  and  858,000  negroes, 
but  neither  there  nor  anywhere  else  in  the  South  are  the 
negroes  multiplying  as  rapidly  as  the  Avhites.  It  was  in 
Georgia  that  the  movement  to  bring  the  cotton  and  the 
mill  side  by  side  had  its  first  trial  before  the  war.  After 
the  war  the  mills  multiplied  and  grew,  and  considerable 
mill  towns  w^ere  developed.  The  State  has  been  pushed 
down  in  the  scale  in  this  respect,  rather  in  the  number 
of  its  mills,  however,  than  in  the  quality  of  its  manufact- 
ures, which  is  still  verj^  high.  Its  iron  industry  is  in 
what  is  part  of  the  Chattanooga- Alabama  district,  but  it 
has  profited  exceptionally  from  this  minor  resource  by 
utilizing  the  iron  in  home  manufactures  to  a  greater 
extent  than  at  least  one  of  the  neighboring  States  has 
done. 

247 


YII 
CHARLESTON   AND  THE   CAROLINAS 

After  one  good  look  around  Charleston,  South  Caro- 
lina, the  thing  which  most  amazed  me  was  that  no  one 
had  ever  happened  to  prepare  me  for  finding  a  city  so 
unlike  our  others  that  it  actually  may  be  said  to  be 
"  built  sidewise,"  as  if  all  its  houses  were  at  odds  with 
the  streets.  Strange  also  it  seemed  that  no  one  had 
warned  me  that  I  should  find  it  a  water  -  color  city  of 
reds  and  pinks  and  soft  yellows  and  white  set  against 
abundant  greenery,  and  with  horse-cars  of  still  stronger 
colors  flaming  through  the  streets  in  the  sunshine.  Its 
own  lovers,  down  there,  like  to  speak  of  it  as  "  old  and 
mellow,"  but  that  expresses  only  a  little  bit  of  what 
it  is. 

First,  it  is  very  beautiful ;  next,  it  is  dignified  and 
proud ;  third,  it  is  the  cleanest  city  (or  was  when  I  was 
there)  that  I  have  yet  seen  in  America ;  and,  last  of  all, 
it  is  a  creation  by  itself — a  city  unlike  any  other  that  I 
know  of.  It  is  built  on  a  spit  of  land  with  water  on 
three  sides,  like  New  York,  and  this  gives  its  people  that 
constant  and  enduring  delight  which  continual  views  of 
moving  Avater  never  fail  to  provide.  Part  of  its  ear- 
ly history  is  that  of  a  planters'  summer  resort,  and 
something  of  that  forgotten  holiday  air  still  clings  to  it. 
If  it  suggests  any  city  that  I  have  ever  seen,  it  is  New 
Orleans — perhaps  because  of  an  indefinable  Latin  trace 
that  is  seen  in  the  stuccoed  houses  and  walled  gardens, 

248 


and  again,  because  of  the  important  part  the  gardens 
play  there,  and  the  profusion  of  flowers  that  results  from 
them. 

The  most  peculiar  feature  of  Charleston  is  the  ar- 
rangement of  its  houses,  which,  as  a  rule,  are  built 
with  the  side  of  each  dwelling  towards  the  pavement. 
This  has  been  done  to  provide  for  either  a  southern  or 
western  prospect  from  the  galleries,  or  ''  piazzas,"  as 
they  call  them,  with  which  each  house  is  prettily  and 
invitingly  adorned.  Because  of  this  method  of  build- 
ing, the  entrances,  Avhich,  without  knowing  better,  we 
would  take  to  be  the  front  doors,  in  reality  admit  the 
members  of  each  household  either  to  the  end  of  the  low- 
er porch  or  into  the  garden.  The  true  front  doors  open 
on  the  inner  gardens  or  courts.  Full  enjoyment  of  the 
gardens  is  thus  combined  with  privacy ;  and  though 
one  may  get  only  glimpses  of  these  little  preserves 
from  the  streets,  strong  hints  of  their  prettinesses  are 
often  carried  up  to  the  lofty  balconies  in  the  forms  of 
vines  and  potted  plants,  like  extensions  of  the  gar- 
dens, the  Avhich  whoever  runs  may  enjoy.  How  very 
pretty  and  how  very  peculiar  Charleston  has  thus  be- 
come only  a  visit  can  disclose.  Wherever  one  sees  a 
fine  garden,  the  palmetto,  which  gave  the  State  its  pop- 
ular nickname,  is  chief  among  its  treasures ;  but  the 
trees  have  all  been  transplanted,  for  they  do  not  natu- 
rally grow  there,  but  on  the  islands  and  low  shores  of 
the  coast.  In  the  public  grounds  about  the  Capitol  at 
Columbia,  in  the  interior  of  the  State,  there  is  a  majestic 
palmetto,  but  it  is  made  of  iron,  the  triumph  of  an  in- 
genious metal-worker. 

I  quite  boldly  referred  to  the  French  appearance  of 
the  city  during  ray  visit,  and  though  there  were  those 
who  upheld  me  in  my  opinion,  one  very  prominent 
gentleman,  himself  of  Huguenot  descent,  insisted  that  I 

249 


was  mistaken.  He  thought  it  more  than  hkely -  almost 
positive — that  the  courtly  manners  and  formal  politeness 
that  distinguished  the  leaders  of  Charleston's  best  so- 
ciety in  the  city's  palmiest  days,  and  that  have  by  no 


THE  IRON  PALMETTO -TREE  AT  COLUMBIA 


means  yet  departed,  were  a  direct  inheritance  from  the 
French.  But  for  the  rest  he  insisted  that,  such  was 
the  strength  of  the  English  domination,  Charleston  was 

250 


always  and  is  to-day  pure  English  at  all  important 
points.  In  1Y93  nearly  five  hundred  French  refugees 
from  San  Domingo  made  Charleston  their  refuge,  and 
one  thoughtful  citizen  argued,  without  insistence,  that 
possibly  that  mere  essence  which  made  the  place  seem 
French  to  me  was  due  to  the  San  Domingans.  How- 
ever, the  discussion  was  and  will  be  futile,  and  for  my- 
self I  can  only  say  that  much  in  the  style  of  many  of 
the  houses  suggests  the  same  adaptation  from  the  French 
that  we  see  in  and  around  New  Orleans,  and  in  the  dec- 
orations and  ornaments  that  continually  confront  a  vis- 
itor the  French  style  is  pure  and  indubitable. 

Mr.  Yates  Snowden  has  gathered  in  a  published  paper 
some  notes  of  the  various  immigrations- of  the  French  to 
Charleston,  and  if  they  were  not  influential  in  the  life 
and  accessories  of  the  people,  it  will  at  least  be  admitted 
that  they  were  numerous  and  important.  He  shows  that 
after  the  various  large  immigrations  of  the  Huguenots 
there  came  to  South  Carolina  fully  twelve  hundred 
Acadian  refugees  in  1755-57,  and  thirty-six  years  later 
the  five  hundred  French  came  from  San  Domingo  and 
settled  in  Charleston.  The  contrast  between  the  results 
of  these  immigrations  and  those  which  have  caused 
'New  Orleans  to  be  still  a  partially  French  city  is  so  great 
as  to  make  the  points  of  comparison  few  and  weak. 
The  San  Domingans  made  a  very  small  impression  upon 
Charleston.  Whether  they  had  been  weakened  by  an  in- 
dolent life  in  the  tropics,  they  certainly  were  not  a  force- 
ful people.  They  clung  to  their  French  customs  and 
language,  it  is  said,  and  yet  they  were  swallowed  up 
to  such  an  extent  that  traces  of  them  were  few  even 
fifty  years  ago.  The  Huguenots,  on  the  other  hand, 
coming  as  humble  folk,  disowning  France  and  warmly 
adopting  our  country  as  their  own,  made  a  very  great 
impression  even  upon  the  aristocracy  and  the  history 

251 


of  the  State.  To  return  to  Mr.  Snowden's  paper, 
he  mentions  the  fact  that  one  of  the  active  philan- 
thropic societies  of  Charleston  is  of  French  origin. 
"  The  South  CaroHna  Society,"  he  says,  "  founded  in 
1736  as  the  French  Club,  afterwards  known  as  the 
Two  Bit  Club,  and  called  the  Carolina  Society  when 
the  Huguenots  more  thoroughly  identified  themselves 
with  their  new  home,  is  probably,  with  one  exception, 
the  oldest  organization  in  active  operation  in  the  South." 

But  from  whatever  its  peculiar  foreignness  may  be 
derived,  Charleston  is  old  and  finished  and  complete — 
a  small,  inviting,  pretty  —  a  dignified,  almost  splendid 
little  city. 

While  I  was  in  Charleston  preparations  were  making 
for  the  celebration  of  the  coming  of  age  of  a  notable 
fashionable  dancing  circle  in  ^NTew  York.  Twenty-one 
years  is  indeed  a  long  time  for  a  coterie  of  purely  fash- 
ionable pleasure  -  seekers  to  hold  together,  and  that 
age,  perhaps,  represents  with  some  fairness  the  period 
during  which  the  great  fortunes  made  since  the  war 
have  both  aided  and  incited  our  own  wealthy  peo- 
ple to  display  their  good -fortune  w4th  more  ostenta- 
tion and  in  circles  more  conspicuous  by  numbers  than 
used  to  be  either  the  rule  or  the  possibility  in  earlier 
times.  And  yet  at  that  very  time  1  read  the  following 
notice  in  a  fresh  copy  of  the  News  and  Courier^  the 
great  and  dignified  dail}^  journal  of  Charleston  : 


MEETINGS. 


St.  Cecilia  Society. — The  One  Hundred  and  Thirty-first  Anni- 
versary Meeting  will  be  held  at  the  South  Carolina  Hall  on  Wednes- 
day, Nov.  22,  at  8  p.m.  Wilmot  D.  Porcher, 

Secretary  and  Treasurer. 


That  notice  concerned  the  members  of  Avhat  I  suppose 

1  fa 
252 


must  be  the  oldest  social  fashionable  organization  in 


America.  If  it  is  no  longer  wealthy,  it  will  neverthe- 
less be  conceded  that  no  such  circle  is  more  exclusive 
than  it  is,  or  than  it  has  been  for  a  longer  time  than  our 
government  has  existed.  Its  name  indicates  its  original 
purpose.  That  name,  which  is  said  to  have  been  adopted 
by  more  musical  societies  than  bear  any  other  title,  all 
over  Christendom,  was  chosen  in  Charleston  to  distin- 
guish a  musical  coterie  formed  from  among  the  lead- 
ing people.  Next,  the  St.  Cecilias,  as  they  are  called, 
added  dancing  to  music,  and  finally  their  sole  purpose 
became  that  of  giving  three  grand  balls  every  winter. 
Two  hundred  men  form  the  membership,  but  they  issue 
about  four  hundred  invitations  to  ladies,  the  number  of 
persons  who  are  thus  entitled  to  attend  the  dance  being 
between  five  hundred  and  six  hundred.  The  invitation 
list  is  the  elite  directory  of  the  town,  so  to  speak.  Once 
the  name  of  a  lady  is  entered  upon  it,  that  name  is 
never  taken  off,  unless  the  lady  dies  or  marries  out  of 
the  membership. 

The  eligibles  are  declared  to  be  "  any  person  in  whose 
family  there  has  been  a  member,  as  well  as  all  men  in 
Charleston  who  are  credited  with  possessing  the  man- 
ners and  instincts  of  gentlemen,  without  regard  to  birth 
or  worldly  condition."  A  great  many  men  of  wealth  in 
Charleston  could  not  be  admitted  if  they  desired  to,  and 
for  some  who  have  made  the  attempt  there  have  been 
heart-burnings,  as  must  always  be  the  case  where  a 
society  attempts  to  keep  its  membership  Avholly  and 
thoroughly  congenial.  On  the  other  hand,  young  men 
who  boast  neither  wealth  nor  pedigree  are  admitted 
annually  when  their  course  of  life  and  traits  of  character 
have  won  them  the  support  of  the  others.  As  a  rule, 
whoever  has  the  entree  of  the  houses  of  the  members  has 
little  or  nothing  to  fear  if  he  applies  for  membership ; 
then  he  needs  only  the  support  of  four-fifths  of  those 

254 


who  attend  the  meeting  at  which  his  appUcation  is  con- 
sidered. The  society  is  managed  by  a  president,  vice- 
president,  secretary,  and  treasurer,  and  twelve  managers, 
chosen  annually. 

Intensely  proud  among  themselves,  the  members  es- 
chew display  and  notoriety  so  far  as  the  society  is  con- 
cerned, and  the  rule  that  nothing  concerning  its  annual 
dances  shall  be  printed  or  given  out  for  publication  is 
believed  never  to  have  been  broken.  The  only  pubhca- 
tions  concerning  the  society  that  are  ever  made  are  the 
notices  of  its  annual  meetings  and  of  the  days  on  which 
the  ball-s  are  given.  Josiah  Quincy,  in  his  memoirs, 
mentions  having  attended  a  meeting  of  the  society 
prior  to  the  war  of  the  Eevolution,  and  speaks  of  the 
care  then  taken  to  make  it  private.  Amid  all  the  old 
things  in  Charleston  (and  it  is  a  veritable  museum,  Avith 
its  ancient  churches,  its  pre-revolutionary  post-office 
building,  its  library  of  colonial  origin,  and  its  old 
Chamber  of  Commerce)  the  fashionable  society  is  it- 


.^f^^^ 


OLD  IRON  GATE,  CHARLESTON 
255 


self  largely  composed  of  men  and  women  rather  young- 
er than  those  of  similar  societies  in  other  cities.  The 
beautiful  Battery — situated  like  that  in  Xew  York — is 
so  dependent  upon  nature  that  it  is  forever  young  and 
gay,  and  is  the  promenade  for  the  St.  Cecilias  and  the 
rest.  It  faces  the  beautiful  harbor,  with  the  sea  and 
Fort  Sumter  (looking  very  small  for  anything  with  so 
big  a  history)  in  the  distance  across  the  broad  blue  bay. 
Facing  the  Battery,  in  turn,  is  a  curving  row  of  resi- 
dences, almost  as  fine  and  as  beautiful  as  any  in  Amer- 
ica. The  especial  beauty  of  the  show  they  make  is  due 
to  the  fact  that  they,  also,  keep  up  a  process  of  reju- 
venation, by  the  addition  of  new  houses  of  the  latest 
fashion.  The  result  is  a  number  of  noble  old-time  man- 
sions lording  it  over  ample  semi-tropical  gardens,  with 
their  shady,  breeze  -  inviting  piazzas  commanding  the 
water  and  the  promenade,  side  by  side  with  dainty 
modern  dwellings  of  what  we  would  call  suburban  villa 
types,  that  give  Charleston's  old  Battery  a  distinct  air 
of  youth  and  vigor.  The  men  who  enjoy  these  luxuries 
of  the  promenade  and  the  fine  houses  of  the  showy  parts 
of  town  are  mainly  those  who  maintain  the  Charleston 
Club,  in  which  so  many  Kew- Yorkers  have  been  so  well 
entertained,  and  the  Carolina  Yacht  Club,  with  its  not- 
able fleet  and  its  fine  sailing  courses,  both  in  the  harbor 
and  at  sea.  ^ 

Somewhat  more  popular  in  its  scope  is  the  Queen 
City  Club,  also  a  fine  organization.  Society,  it  is  ex- 
plained, is  in  the  hands  of  the  young  because  their  elders 
have  not  the  means  to  entertain  as  they  Avould  prefer  to 
do ;  but  however  that  may  be,  it  seems  to  me  an  admi- 
rable society,  in  which  mere  money  cuts  as  slight  a  fig- 
ure as  it  is  possible  to  conceiv^e.  But  it  is  w^onderful — 
and  doubtless  sad  from  the  former  point  of  view — to 
note  how  the  wealthy  class  has  changed  since  the  days 

256 


• 


when  the  planter  was  king.  On  the  Battery,  once  a 
row  of  planters'  mansions,  only  one  house  is  that  of  a 
planter.  Now  the  homes  there  are  those  of  retired  fac- 
tors, prosperous  lawyers,  bankers,  real-estate  operators, 
and  men  who  have  accumulated  their  means  elsewhere 
and  returned  to  the  charming  old  city. 

The  custom  these  people  maintain  of  eating  dinner  at 
three  or  four  o'clock  in  the  afternoon  will  strike  a  stran- 
ger from  the  E"orth  as  peculiar.  In  some  degree  it  ob- 
tains all  through  the  South — at  least,  after  one  leaves 
North  Carolina.  Another  thing — a  trifle,  but  equally 
odd — is  the  habit  the  shopkeepers  have  of  hanging  cards 
in  their  doors  to  show  the  legend  "  Shut "  or  "  Open." 
To  a  fevered  New-Yorker  it  is  lovely  to  think  that  per- 
haps this  indicates  that  w^hen  trade  is  slow  or  the  shop- 
keeper desires  to  attend  a  wedding,  he  can  close  his 
shop,  and  that  the  customers  who  come  will  exclaim, 
"  Bother !  It's  shut.  I  must  come  again  to-morrow,"  as 
they  used  to  do  under  the  same  circumstances  in  New 
York  not  so  very  long  ago. 

A  very  notable  charity,  distinguished  further  by  being 
the  only  one  of  its  kind  in  the  South,  is  the  '•  Home  for 
the  Mothers,  Widows,  and  Daughters  of  Confederate 
Soldiers."  It  was  founded  by  women  and  is  managed 
by  women,  solely  for  women  and  girls.  The  chief  spirit 
among  the  founders  was  Mrs.  M.  E.  Snowden,  who  has 
seen  the  noble  work  flourish  for  a  quarter  of  a  century, 
who  has  mourned  the  loss  of  many  who  were  associated 
with  her  at  the  outset,  and  yet  who  remains  active  and 
at  the  head  of  the  foundation.  The  undertaking  has 
been  completely  successful.  The  women  own  the  home 
building,  and  have  a  handsome  bank  account  besides. 
They  have  given  relief  to  as  many  as  2000  persons, 
and  an  education  to  hundreds  who  could  not  otherwise 
have  obtained  it.     The  home  now  shelters  about  thirty 

258 


women  and  something  like  fifty  girls,  who  must  ha\^e 
been  under  fourteen  years  of  age  when  entered  there. 
The  school-girls  spend  ten  months  in  each  year  in  the 
building.  They  are  the  offspring  of  the  families  of  the 
upper  grade,  as  a  rule,  though  the  only  requirement  is 
that  they  shall  be  white.  The  women  are  not  all  of  the 
same  social  standing. 

The  Home  is  in  a  historic  building.  Where  now  is  the 
school-room  the  sessions  of  the  United  States  court  were 
held,  and  at  one  sensational  session 'in  1860  one  of  the 
Federal  judges  threw  off  his  robe,  saying,  "  The  time  for 
action  has  come."  Tossing  his  robe  on  the  floor,  he  left 
the  room,  and  thus  summarily  ended  the  Federal  juris- 
diction in  South  Carolina.  However,  it  is  a  dove-cote 
now,  and  breathes  an  atmosphere  of  grace,  mercy,  and 
peace,  whose  genius  is  felt  amid  such  surroundings  that 
the  glimpse  I  got  of  the  garden,  with  its  cool  piazzas,  its 
banana-trees,  and  its  happy  tenants,  seemed  altogether 
idyllic. 

In  nothing  is  Charleston  more  admirable  and  interest- 
ing than  in  its  church  buildings.  Better  yet,  the  people 
know  this — which  is  not  always  the  case  in  such  matters 
— and  are  as  proud  of  them  as  they  should  be.  The  two 
old  English  churches  of  St.  Michael's  and  St.  Philip's  are 
to  the  city  what  superb  statues  are  to  a  park.  They  are 
beautiful  ornaments — monuments  to  a  wealth  of  pride 
and  taste  which  may  exist  there,  but  will  not  be  easily 
excelled  in  any  modern  memorials.  But  the  Huguenot 
Church,  the  only  one  in  America,  is  equally  beautiful  in 
its  history.  Its  pastor,  the  Rev.  Dr.  Charles  S.  Yedder, 
has  written  this  concise  statement  of  its  claims  upon 
those  who  venerate  the  cause  of  religion,  and  especially 
that  of  these  liberty-loving  exiles  of  old.  These  are  his 
words : 

"  Established  by  French  Protestants,  Refugees  from 

259 


• 


France  on  account  of  Religious  persecution.  Their  De- 
scendants, venerating  that  steadfastness  to  principle  so 
conspicuous  in  their  Ancestors,  continue  to  worship  To- 
Day  with  the  same  liturgy  (translated)  published  at  Keuf- 


CHARLESTON   CliUlJ   HOUSE 


• 


# 


chatel  in  1737  and  1772,  in  this,  the  ONLf  Huguenot 
Church  in  America." 

In  a  paper  which  Dr.  Yedder  read  before  the  Hugue- 
not Society  of  America  a  few  years  ago  he  declared  that 
the  first  Protestant  settlement  on  this  continent  was 
made  in  South  Carolina  by  Huguenots.  Admiral  de  Co- 
ligny,  seeking  a  place  of  refuge  for  the  unhappy  French 
Protestants,  fitted  out  an  unlucky  expedition,  which 
made  an  abortive  effort  to  form  a  settlement  in  Brazil. 
Then  he  despatched  another  expedition,  under  Jean  Ri- 
baut,  which  formed  a  settlement  at  or  near  the  site  of 

260 


IT- 


Port  Royal,  South  Carolina,  in  1562,  which,  as  the  Doc- 
tor says,  was  forty-five  years  earlier  than  the  English 
colonization  of  Virginia,  fifty-two  years  before  the  Dutch 
settlement  of  New  York,  and  fifty-eight  years  before  the 
foundation  of  the  Plymouth  colony.  And  j^et  more  than 
a  hundred  years  were  to  ])ass  before  the  Huguenots  be- 
came important  factors  in  the  making  of  South  Carolina. 
Fire  destroyed  this  first  fort  of  the  Protestants ;  distress 
fell  upon  them ;  and  while  Ribaut  was  away  attempting 
to  bring  them  re-enforcements,  they  built  a  ship,  and 
after  fearful  hardships  and  losses  of  life  a  few  survivors 
reached  England.  In  1680  the  second  Charles  of  Eng- 
land sent  over  fifty  families  to  raise  wine,  oil,  and  silk, 
the  English  colony  being  then  ten  years  old ;  and  after 
the  revocation  of  the  edict  of  Kantes  in  1685  there  was 
"a  constant  stream  of  Huguenot  immigration  to  South 
Carolina."  Four  settlements  were  founded,  and  one 
historian,  who  saw  the  French  there  in  1700,  says  that, 
being  temperate  and  industrious,  they  "  have  outstripped 
our  EnMish  who  brouo^ht  with  them  laro^e  fortunes." 
But  the  colonial  government  was  English,  and  the  Hugue- 
nots were  made  to  suff'er  great  discomfort  on  account 
of  their  religion,  even  the  right  to  vote  being  denied  to 
them.  At  last  the  three  rural  congregations  merged 
their  churches  into  the  Established  (Episcopal)  Church, 
translating  the  English  liturgy  into  the  French  tongue 
for  their  own  use.  This  was  not  done  in  Charleston, 
but  after  1728  the  services  were  held  in  English.  The 
church  itself  was  established  there  in  1681-82,  and  in  the 
interval  between  that  time  and  this  the  Marions,  the 
Laurenses,  the  Manigaults,  and  many,  many  others  have 
distinguished  the  Huguenot  race,  and  their  own  State 
as  well. 

The  two  Episcopal  churches  of  St.  Philip's  and  St. 
Michael's  are,  as  I  have  intimated,  the  most  beautiful 

261 


church  edifices  in  the  Carolinas.  They  ennoble  almost 
every  view  of  Charleston  that  one  gets.  St.  Philip's  has 
the  third  building  in  which  the  congregation  has  wor- 
shipped, but  it  copies  the  second  one,  destroyed  in  1835, 
of  which  Edmund  Burke  said  that  it  was  "  executed  in 
a  very  handsome  taste,  exceeding  everything  of  that 
kind  which  we  have  in  America."  The  dramatic  poem, 
still  recited  wherever  English  is  spoken,  which  tells  of 
the  daring  of  a  slave-boy  who  climbed  a  steeple  to  put 
out  the  fire  that  threatened  its  destruction,  wherefore  his 
master  set  him  free,  tells  the  true  story  of  an  incident 
m  the  history  of  St.  Philip's.  The  poem  credits  the  in- 
cident to  St.  Michael's,  but  that  is  a  mistake.  Both 
these  churches  are  of  the  general  style  of  our  old  St. 
Paul's  in  New  York,  but  both  are  very  much  handsomer. 
St.  Michael's  is  said  to  be  very  like  St.  Martin's-in-the- 
Fields  in  London,  so  familiar  to  most  Americans  who 
have  visited  that  city.  The  steeple  is  made  up  of  a  se- 
ries of  graduated  chambers,  so  well  proportioned  that 
each  new  study  of  them  is  a  fresh  delight.  It  is  no 
wonder  that  the  Charlestonians  like  to  mention  that  it 
has  always  been  a  tradition  that  Sir  Christopher  AVren 
was  the  designer  of  the  building,  though  there  is  better 
reason  to  believe  that  it  was  Gibbs,  the  architect  of  the 
London  church  which  it  so  greatly  resembles.  In  the 
steeple  hang  the  bells  which  are  Charleston's  most  be- 
loved possession.  Not  only  were  they  imported  from 
England  in  176 J:,  but  when  the  British  retired  from  the 
city  at  the  close  of  the  Eevolution  they  were  seized  as  a 
military  perquisite  and  sent  to  London.  There  a  Mr. 
Kyhiner,  who  had  been  a  merchant  in  Charleston, 
bought  them  and  sent  them  back  to  Charleston.  In 
1861  they  were  sent  to  Columbia  for  safety,  and  when 
that  city  was  burned  by  the  Federal  troops  they  were 
ruined  by  the  flames.     In  1866  they  were  sent  back  to 

262 


England  to  be  recast  by  the  descendants  of  the  original 
founders,  and  in  another  twelve  months  they  were  back 
again,  practically  the  same  eight  bells,  but  held  by  the 
government  for  the  payment  of  $2200  duty.  That  was 
paid,  and  the  money  has  since  been  refunded  by  espe- 
cial act  of  Congress. 

Two  old  institutions  carry  a  strong  suggestion  of 
Yankee  influence,  or,  at  least,  of  Yankee  kinship.  One 
is  the  Charleston  New  England  Society,  a  century  old, 
which  observes  Forefathers'  day  with  regularity ;  an- 


THE   CUSTOM-HOUSE,  CHAllLESTON 


other  is  an  influential  old  Congregational  church,  now 
worshipping  in  a  fourth  and  very  fine  modern  edifice ; 
and — I  had  almost  forgotten  it — there  is  actuall}^  a 
Unitarian   church,  which  one   day  split  off  from   the 


26^ 


Congregational  church  quite  as  it  might  have  done  in 
Boston. 

Nothing  in  Charleston  seemed  more  peculiar  to  me 
than  the  colony  of  buzzards  which  the  citizens  have  de- 
veloped by  taming  and  protection,  and  which  spends  a 
part  of  each  da}'^  around  the  market  in  the  very  heart 
of  the  city.  There  one  may  almost  stumble  over  these 
huge  black  birds,  which  are  elsewhere  scarcely  seen,  ex- 
cept at  great  heights,  circling  and  sailing  like  creatures 
of  another  world.  I  one  day  counted  thirtj^-eight  buz- 
zards on  the  cobble-stones  of  the  street  upon  only  one 
side  of  the  market.  They  are  quite  as  large  as  eagles, 
and  as  black  and  lustrous  as  crows,  but  have  white  legs, 
and  bare  wrinkled  brown  necks  that  make  them  look 
like  caricatures  of  old-fashioned  parsons  in  higli  "  chok- 
ers." They  are  extremely  ungainly,  stiff -legged,  and 
awkward  when  they  walk,  and  when  they  begin  that 
flight  which  they  are  able  to  master  so  that  they  appear 
even  more  at  ease  in  the  air  than  are  fishes  in  the  sea, 
they  start  out  with  a  supremely  ridiculous  upward 
movement,  durino:  which  their  lono^  Ws  hano:  down 
straight,  and  their  heads  and  tails  flap  almost  together 
on  either  side  of  their  feet.  They  then  look  as  if  they 
were  being  hfted  by  a  string  around  each  one's  middle, 
and  were  struggling  to  get  free.  I  do  not  think  they 
are  the  common  buzzards,  without  which  no  view  in  the 
Southern  country  is  complete,  but  I  could  not  find  in 
book  or  acquaintance  any  enlightenment  on  the  subject 
further  than  the  jocular  statement  that  they  are  called 
"  the  Charleston  canaries." 

They  are  splendid  scavengers.  They  roost  on  the  low 
gutters  around  the  market,  and  wait  until  the  butchers 
begin  business.  Then,  as  customers  come  and  the  men 
of  the  cleaver  and  knife  begin  to  cut  off  and  discard  the 
fag  ends  and  worthless  bits  of  the  meat  and  toss  them 

264 


into  the  street,  the  great  birds  drop  down,  one  by  one, 
and  begin  eating  the  waste.  I  said  I  almost  stumbled 
over  them;  I  certainly  could  have  walked  upon  and 
over  them  for  all  the  heed  they  gave  me. 

''  Well,"  said  I  to  a  negro  man  who  was  priding  him- 
self on  having  found  the  sunniest  loafing -place  in  the 
neighborhood,  "these  are  mighty  independent  buzzards." 

"  Yaas,"  said  he,  "  dey  is  in'pendent,  an'  dey  is  proud. 


ST.  Michael's  church,  chakleston 
265 


Dey's  gittin'  so  tame,  now,  dey  hangs  round  de  city  all 
de  while.  When  de  butchers  done  leave,  de  buzzards 
done  leave.  Then  de  buzzards  light  out  to  de  pen  where 
de  meat  am  slaughtered.  Oh,  dey  knows  what's  goin' 
on ;  doan't  need  no  one  to  tell  'em. 

"  Dese  yer  buzzards  use  ter  sleep  'crost  de  ribber  in  de 
woods.  Over  dat  away  dey  isn't  king,  like  dey  is  here. 
Over  dere  de  raid-haid  raven  is  king,  an'  dese  yer  big 
birds  ain't  nuffin  like  so  in'pendent  an'  proud  like  you 
see  'em  here,  'cause  dey  ain't  king.  De  raid-haid  raven 
is  a  bigger  bird,  an'  he  bosses  de  whole  roos'.  If  carrion 
lay  daid  a  day  or  two  days,  dese  yer  buzzards  dassent 
tech  it;  no  'deed  dey  dassent.  Dey  doan't  meddle  wid 
nuffin  tell  de  raid-haid  raven  comes.  Pretty  soon,  when 
he  just  gits  ready,  he  comes  'long,  more  proud  an'  in- 
'pendent dan  de  king  lion  hisself,  an'  he  picks  out  de  eye 
ob  de  carrion.  After  dat  dese  yer  birds  is  'lowed  to 
pitch  in  an'  eat  all  dey  want  to.  Dese  yer  buzzards 
doan't  knoAv  dat  carrion  is  sure  enough  daid  till  de  raid- 
haid  raven  comes  an'  teks  de  e3^e." 

Queer  people  are  the  darkies,  and  a  queer  thing  about 
them  is  that  they  believe  there  is  always  a  king  over 
every  bird  and  beast  and  creeping  thing  around  them. 

It  is  a  statutory  offence  to  molest  these  "  Charleston 
canaries,"  and  as  the  law  is  enforced,  they  revel  there 
as  if  they  owned  the  market. 

Long  ago  Charleston  grew  tired  of  ''  fighting  the  war 
over  again,"  and  left  it  to  the  Northern  politicians  to 
do.  Business  and  activity  is  what  they  talk  of  now,  not 
as  of  things  they  possess  in  sufficiency,  but  as  of  essen- 
tials which  they  'cry  for.  The  city  has  been  left  in  an 
eddy.  Its  local  railways  are  but  links  of  a  great  line 
which  makes  Charleston  an  incident  and  at  times  a  side 
issue.  The  hope  and  prayer  of  the  people  is  that  their 
city  may  become  the  terminus  of  some  great  system — 

266 


the  Louisville  and  Nashville,  perhaps.  The  relation  of 
the  city  to  the  North,  the  "West,  and  the  Southwest,  and 
to  Europe,  could  easily  become  very  important,  for  her 
position  would  seem  to  guarantee  it  as  an  eventual  cer- 
tainty. The  deepening  of  the  entrance  to  the  harbor  is 
a  necessary  preliminary,  and  this  is  being  accomplished 
by  the  Federal  government.     The  harbor  itself  is  suffi- 


INTERIOR  OF   ST.  MICHAEL  S 


ciently  deep,  but  there  were  only  sixteen  feet  over  the 
bar.  This  is  being  increased  to  a  depth  sufficient  to  ad- 
mit modern  ocean  vessels. 

In  the  old  days  the  cotton  of  South  Carolina  and 
northern    Georgia   was   all    handled    and    shipped   at 

267     - 


Charleston.  A  very  great  number  of  persons  shared 
the  profits.  The  factors  who  bought  and  shipped  the 
cotton  made  their  profits;  the  men  who  mended  the 
bales,  those  who  pressed  them,  the  stevedores — all  lived 
upon  the  business.  Now  the  cotton  is  shipped  directh' 
from  every  point  where  a  thousand  bales  are  collected, 
and  it  is  even  sent  to  Europe  from  mere  railroad  sta- 
tions which  may  not  have  importance  from  any  other 
cause.  If  it  had  not  been  for  the  phosphate  industry 
Charleston  could  not  have  supported  25,000  souls. 

The  phosphates  are  found  to  the  northward  of 
Charleston,  mainly  on  the  Ashley  and  Stono  rivers, 
and  in  less  extent  and  of  inferior  quality  between  the 
Ashley  and  Cooper  rivers.  The  best  phosphates,  and 
those  that  are  "  most  workable,"  are  along  the  west 
bank  of  the  Ashley.  Then,  again,  in  Colleton  County, 
between  the  Edisto  and  Ashepoo  rivers,  there  are  de- 
posits, but  they  are  more  expensive  to  handle  because 
they  are  not  as  handy  to  navigable  water  as  those 
which  lie  near  the  Ashley  Eiver.  These  are  all  land 
phosphates,  and  the  title  to  them  lies  in  the  land.  The 
river  phosphates  are  in  the  Stono  and  the  Edisto  rivers, 
though  the  greatest  and  best  deposits  are  in  the  waters 
around  Beaufort  and  Port  Eoyal,  the  best  being  in  the 
Coosaw  River,  on  the  bottom  beneath  the  water.  The 
phosphates  have  to  be  w^ashed  and  ground,  and  then 
treated  with  sulphuric  acid,  which  frees  the  phosphoric 
acid  from  the  lime,  and  gives  free  phosphoric  acid  of  the 
kind  generally  used  in  the  manufacture  of  fertilizers. 
Charleston  has  fifteen  factories,  situated  along  both  the 
rivers  that  flow  past  the  citv,  and  making  200,000  tons 
a  year.  There  are  two  factories  near  Beaufort,  and 
there  are  others  elsewhere  in  the  State.  That  phos- 
phate which  is  treated  in  these  factories  is  used  for 
what  may  be  called  home  consumption  in  both  Caro- 

268 


Unas,  Alabama,  Georgia,  and,  to  less  extent,  in  Missis- 
sippi. A  great  deal  of  land  phosphate,  washed,  but 
not  ground,  is  shipped  to  Baltimore,  Atlanta,  Charlotte, 
Columbia,  and  many  interior  towns  in  the  neighbor- 
ing States.     The  greater  part  of  the  water  phosphates 


A  BIT   OF   CHARLESTON   FROM   ST.  MICHAEL  S  CHURCH 


has  been  shipped  direct  to  Europe,  though  some  has 
been  used  at  home  when  the  price  has  been  lower 
than  that  of  the  land  rock.  The  State  owns  the  water 
phosphate,  and  charges  the  companies  that  work  it 
one  dollar  a  ton  royalty.  This  tax  netted  $234,000  to 
the  State  in  one  recent  year.     But  Florida  phosphates 

369 


'M// 


ST.  PHILIP  S  CHURCH 


of  equal  grade  are  being  marketed  quite  as  cheaply, 
and  the  South  Carolina  trade  is  menaced.  The  rem- 
ed}^  must  be  a  reduction  of  the  State  tax.  That  this 
relief  will  be  granted,  perhaps  before  this  is  published, 
I  have  very  little  doubt. 

Taking  South  Carolina  as  a  whole,  we  find  it  singular- 
ly attractive  to  immigration,  and  yet  singularly  avoided 
by  it.    It  is  one  of  the  richest  of  our  States  in  the  possi- 

270 


bilities  of  its  soil,  which  are  very  varied  indeed.  Yet  it 
has  only  about  one-third  of  its  acreage  under  cultivation 
by  a  population  more  largely  black  than  white,  and  so 
little  infused  with  the  foreign  elements  which  have  lit- 
erally populated  and  enriched  great  parts  of  our  domain 
that  its  Governor  truly  says  of  it :  "  The  people  of 
South  Carolina  are  homogeneous.  Most  of  the  whites 
have  common  origin."     But  the  majority  of  the  people 


BUZZARDS  NEAR  THE  MARKET 


are  negroes,  who,  being  under  little  stimulus  towards 
social  improvement,  or  any  ambition  except  that  of 
being  able  to  live  from  day  to  day,  deprive  the  State  of 
that  reservoir  of  latent  strength  and  potential  wealth 
which  an  industrious  and  ambitious  multitude  of  the 
not-at-all-to-be-despised  foreign  immigrants  would  bring 
to  it. 

We  find  stern  competition  in  Florida  threatening  the 
revenue  from  the  phosphates,  and  still  more  injurious 

271 


competition  in  Louisiana  injuring  the  returns  from  the 
Carolina  rice,  and  yet  the  prospect  for  the  State  is  not 
gloomy.  The  diversification  of  its  farm  industries  und 
the  remarkable  growth  of  the  cotton-milling  business 
make  it  otherwise.  Within  the  last  six  months  (this  was 
written  at  the  opening  of  1894)  no  less  than  three  mill- 
ions of  dollars  have  been  expended  in  the  building  of 
new  mills  in  the  Carolinas,  and  the  people  of  those 
States  and  of  Georgia  are  not  unreasonable  in  insisting, 
as  they  do,  that  in  time  the  mills  generally  must  come 
to  the  cotton,  and  that  the  bulk  of  the  manufacture  of 
cotton  must  be  done  in  the  South.  Governor  Tilhnan 
did  well  in  calling  attention  (in  his  paper  prepared  for 
the  Convention  of  Southern  Governors  in  Richmond 
in  1893)  to  the  abundance  and  cheapness  of  the  water- 
power  in  his  State.  He  wrote :  "  Mr.  Swaim,  the  special 
agent  of  the  census  of  1880,  made  a  careful  estimate  of 
the  water-power  of  our  streams  as  reaching  a  million 
horse-power.  If  developed,  these  would  give  employ- 
ment to  six  millions  of  operatives  in  cotton-mills,"  and  al- 
low for  a  corresponding  increase  of  population.  He  says 
that  "  owing  to  want  of  capital  in  the  State,  these  pow- 
ers can  be  bought  cheaply  now,  and  they  would  prove 
capital  investments.  The  winters  are  so  mild  that  there 
is  comparatively  no  trouble  from  freezing.  The  benig- 
nity of  the  climate  makes  living  cheaper,  and  this  adds 
to  the  advantages  offered  to  manufacturers  by  our  water- 
powers." 

The  use  of  fertilizers  has  pushed  the  cultivation  of  cot- 
ton to  the  very  feet  of  the  mountains  in  the  w^estern 
part  of  the  State,  and  though  it  has  been  overdone,  as  it 
has  everywhere  else  in  the  South,  there  has  been  no  need 
to  caution  the  planters,  for  with  the  consequent  decline  of 
the  price  of  their  staple  they  have  learned  wisdom — bit- 
terly as  it  so  often  comes — and  are  beginning  to  diversify 

373 


their  crops,  at  least  sufficiently  to  provide  themselves 
with  meat  and  bread,  as  well  as,  in  some  parts  of  the 
State,  to  raise  fruits  and  vegetables  for  market.  In  the 
mean  time  the  starting  of  cotton-mills  has  gone  on,  until 
from  a  possession  of  twelve  mills  in  1870  the  State  had 
forty-four  in  1892,  representing  a  capital  of  $12,000,000, 
and  employing  thousands  of  operatives  —  nearly  all 
white. 

Turning  to  North  Carolina,  we  find  this  particular  in- 
dustry much  more  extensive.  The  latest  statistics  I 
have  been  able  to  procure — the  truly  excellent  hand- 
book prepared  for  the  Columbian  Exposition  by  the 
]5^orth  Carolina  Board  of  Agriculture — include  the  facts 
and  figures  concerning  one  hundred  and  forty  cotton- 
mills,  and  a  statement  that  six  other  mills  were  then  un- 
der construction.  To  these  should  be  added  thirteen 
woollen  mills,  one  of  which  manufactures  both  cotton 
and  wool.  The  strangest  thing  about  this  woollen  indus- 
try is  that  though  the  State  is  admirably  calculated  to 
rank  high  as  a  wool-producing  one,  and  though  the  in- 
dustry would  be  highly  profitable,  the  fact  remains  that 
many  of  the  principal  mills  buy  their  wool  elsewhere, 
because  the  ravages  of  the  dogs  make  sheep-raising  prof- 
itless, and  because  the  people  of  the  State  will  not  en- 
force or  permit  the  enforcement  of  the  laws  for  the  pro- 
tection of  the  sheep. 

But  the  manufacture  of  tobacco  has  brought  more 
prosperit}^  to  this  truly  enterprising  State  than  any  oth- 
er industry.  It  has  not  onl}^  awakened,  enriched,  and 
increased  many  towns,  but  it  has  built  up  several  new 
ones,  like  Durham  and  Winston  and  others.  The  busi- 
ness is  enormous.  The  State  contains  no  less  than  one 
hundred  and  ten  factories  where  plug  tobacco  is  made, 
nine  smoking-tobacco  factories,  and  three  cigarette-fac- 
tories.    Several  of  these  are  world-famous   and  truly 

274 


enormous.  The  plug-tobacco-making  town  of  Winston 
sold  eleven  millions  of  pounds  of  manufactured  tobacco 
and  paid  more  than  $660,000  revenue  tax  in  1891.  Dur- 
ham paid  $616,000. 

It  has  been  said  that  the  activity  in  cotton -manufact- 
uring has  stimulated  the  many  other  manufacturing  ac- 
tivities that  we  find  keeping  the  Old  North  State  astir. 
To  my  mind  the  fact  is  that  the  character  of  her  people, 
her  most  admirable  climate,  and  the  opportunities  af- 
forded by  her  extraordinarily  varied  resources  are  at  the 
bottom  of  it  all,  the  cotton  manufacture  as  well  as  the 
rest ;  at  all  events  we  certainly  find  the  activity  reach- 
ing out  in  many  new  industries,  notably  the  manufact- 
ure of  buggies  and  wagons ;  of  furniture ;  of  paper,  in 
several  mills ;  of  cotton  hosiery  and  other  knitted  goods, 
in  ten  places ;  of  canning,  in  twenty-eight  establishments, 
exclusive  of  several  oyster-canneries;  of  cotton-seed-oil 
manufacture,  by  nine  mills;  of  fertilizers,  extensively^ 
in  very  many  places.  And,  finally,  among  something 
like  two  dozen  estabhshments  for  the  making  and 
working  of  iron,  there  has  been  newly  founded  a  million- 
dollar  steel  and  iron  plant  at  Greensboro. 

The  Capitol  of  North  Carolina,  at  Kaleigh,  is  a  mate- 
rialized echo  of  the  past,  in  and  about  which  there  is  no 
note  of  the  transformation  of  the  State  and  its  people. 
Built  sixty  years  ago  by  a  slave-holding  people,  it  has 
remained  unchanged  through  the  calamities  of  war  and 
the  brilliant  evolution  of  the  new  spirit  of  enlightened 
industry.  There  it  stands,  classic,  dignified,  aged,  but 
well  preserved,  as  if  it  typified  all  that  was  good  and 
enduring  in  the  courtly,  generous,  but  feudal  masters 
whose  rule  has  passed  away  forever  in  the  Old  North 
State.  The  beautifully  proportioned  old  palace  stands 
embowered  among  trees  at  least  as  old  and  majestic  as 
itself  in  a  rather  modern-looking  little  park.     The  build- 

276 


ing  is  of  granite  quarried  near  by.  The  last  glimpse  and 
the  first,  like  all  the  views  one  gets  of  its  interior,  sug- 
gest just  such  a  strange  blending  of  age  and  careful 
keeping  as  one  notes  in  the  ancient  trinkets  Avhich  now 


ENTRA^-CE   TO   ASSEMBT.Y    CHAMBER 


and  then  some  wrinkled  old  spinster  brings  out  to  exhib- 
it as  the  choicest,  tenderest  relics  of  a  distant  generation 
of  her  people. 

The  walls  and  floor  are  clean  and  fresh,  for  instance, 
but  on  the  doorway  to  the  Assembly  Chamber  is  the 
strange  legend,  "Commons  Hall."  An  aged  but  dil- 
igent servitor  who  guides  you  wastes  no  time  over  the 
great  portrait  of  Washington  on  one  wall,  but  dwells 

278 


feelingly  upon  the  fact  that  in  the  cruel,  tyrannical  days 
of  "carpet-bag  rule"  the  negroes,  who  were  then  the 
legislators,  broke  two  of  the  precious  old  hard-wood 
chairs  which  were  the  especial  treasures  in  that  chamber. 
He  takes  you  across  the  hall — carrying  with  his  spare, 
bent  form  a  strong  suggestion  of  a  past  as  extensive  as 
that  of  the  capital  itself — and  there  you  are  stirred  by 
the  sight  of  the  prim  but  noble  mahogany  provided  for 
the  statesmen  of  the  luxurious  past  to  rest  and  to  write 
upon.  The  old  man  stirs  you  in  quite  another  way  by 
the  remark  that  a  Northern  firm  has  oflFered  to  exchange 
modern  furniture  for  all  that  is  in  the  old  room.  A 
bust  of  John  C.  Calhoun  is  the  chief  ornament  in  the 


A   NICHE   IN   THE   CAPITOL 


Senate  Chamber,  though  the  neatness  and  reverential 
order  that  rule  there  strike  you  as  better  than  any  or- 
nament could  be. 

You  carry  with  you  to  the  executive  offices  down- 
stairs a  mind  wholly  given  up  to  reflections  upon  the 
past,  and,  lo  !  the  officials  in  those  ancient  rooms  all  but 

279 


RAILWAY   STATION   AT  RALEIGH 


stun  you  with  the  zeal  and  zest  with  which  they  press 
you  to  consider  the  present  needs  of  the  State,  its  bust- 
ling progress,  and  its  wealth  of  unworked  resources. 
You'd  hardly  find  a  quicker  spirit  in  Ohio  or  Rhode  Isl- 
and. Moreover,  there  is  little  buncombe  about  it.  If 
they  tell  you,  as  they  will,  that  no  State  in  all  our  Un- 
ion has  such  varied  capabiUties,  or  that  its  climate  em- 
braces nearly  the  full  extremes  that  are  represented  in 
our  minds  by  Maine  and  Florida,  they  make  their  words 
good  by  showing  you  photographs  of  the  snow-silvered 
spruce  forests  of  the  western  mountains,  and  palm  -  lit- 
tered, all  but  tropical  views  taken  along  the  sunny  coast. 
They  boast  a  little,  as  good  Americans  always  do,  and 
if  some  of  the  things  they  say  show  a  trifle  of  jealousy, 
or  if  some  of  the  topics  they  choose  seem  somewhat  un- 
sentimental, you  must  remind  yourself  that  the  jealousy 
springs  from  a  pride  that  has  been  wounded,  and  that 


the  best  elements  of  wealth  are  not  apt  to  be  of  a  poetic 
nature.  Thus  they  tell  you  that  the  excellent  peanuts 
which  North  Carolina  raises  in  abundance  have  failed  to 
bring  her  the  credit  she  deserves,  and  that  the  golden, 
beautiful  tobacco  which  for  generations  has  been  known 
as  "  bright  Virginia  leaf,"  so  much  admired  for  use  in 
pipes  and  cigarettes,  was  and  is  largely  grown  in  I^orth 
Carolina.  The  way  in  which  the  Yankee-like  old  State 
came  to  be  robbed  of  the  credit  for  its  peanuts  was  this : 
For  years  the  farmers  of  eastern  North  Carolina  have 
been  raising  the  nuts  and  shipping  them  in  crude  condi- 
tion to  Norfolk.  There  they  have  been  cleaned  and 
bagged  and  sold  as  Virginia  produce.  This  is  yet  the 
case,  although  the  eastern  North  Carolina  nuts  are  un- 
excelled by  any  others  that  are  grown  in  the  world. 
But  the  wedge  of  justice  has  been  inserted  in  this  case. 
The  work  of  separating  and  cleaning  the  nuts  has  been 
begun  in  a  small  way  by  the  North  Carolina  farmers, 
and  the  world  at  large  will  soon  learn  that  though  Vir- 
ginia and  Tennessee  grow  good  peanuts,  they  never  pro- 


GOVERNOR  S  MANSION,  RALEIGH 
281 


duce  finer  ones  than  are  grown  in  Nortli  Carolina.  As 
for  the  "  goobers "  that  gave  Georgia  its  niclvname  of 
"the  Goober  State,"  they  are  small  and  poor  by  com- 
parison. 

It  is  different  with  the  splendid  tobacco  of  the  State. 
At  last  North  Carolina  is  establishing  a  reputation  for 
its  own  excellent  "  weed  that  cheers."  Buyers  now 
come  to  the  North  Carolina  market-towns,  and  the  best 
bright  leaf  is  coming  to  be  classed  under  its  true  name. 
The  town  of  Durham,  so  famous  among  men  who  smoke, 
is  the  capital  of  the  golden-tobacco  belt,  which  embraces 
ten  or  twelve  counties  in  the  middle  of  the  State.  The 
"  mahogany,"  or  plug-tobacco  leaf,  is  grown  in  the  west- 
ern part,  and  Winston,  which  maintains  forty  plug  fac- 
tories, is  its  industrial  capital. 

From  the  Northern  evergreen  to  the  perennial  South- 
ern palm  is  the  measure  of  the  State's  fertility,  and  her 
people  do  not  hesitate  to  say  that  all  that  should  bridge 
the  two  extremes  is  also  theirs.  That  they  can  and  do 
grow  whatever  is  grown  elsewhere  in  the  United  States 
is  true,  with  a  few  marked  exceptions  that  distinguish 
the  extreme  South.  It  is  the  boast  of  the  people  that  at 
Chicago's  great  exposition  no  State  displayed  such  a 
great  variety  of  the  products  of  the  soil. 

Under  such  circumstances  the  most  practical  student 
of  the  commonwealth  cannot  be  altogether  prosaic  in 
hsting  its  products.  If  I  have  the  good  fortune  to  pos- 
sess the  eye  of  that  friend  whom  the  novelist  always 
addresses  as  "  fair  reader,"  let  me  also  turn  directly  to 
her  and  ask  what  she  thinks  of  whole  farms  given  up  to 
tuberoses !  Such,  it  seems,  are  among  the  triumphs  of 
North  Carolinian  husbandry.  Some  farms  devote  as 
many  as  twenty-five  acres,  "  in  a  patch,"  to  the  cultiva- 
tion of  tuberoses.  During  the  first  year  the  tuberose 
bulb  multiplies,  and  does  not  flower.     It  is  during  its 

282 


STATE  PRISON,  RALEIGH 


second  year  that  it  spreads  its  delicate,  waxen,  and  aro- 
matic blossoms,  and  a  great  industry  in  this  State  is  the 
development  of  the  bulbs  in  the  earth  for  the  first  year, 
and  then  the  shipment  of  them  to  the  North  in  barrels, 
to  be  sold  by  the  florists,  and  set  out  to  blossom.  North 
Carolina  is  chosen  for  this  graceful  branch  of  farming 
because  of  the  properties  of  the  soil,  and  because  the 
bulbs  can  be  kept  out  in  it  all  winter.  It  is  true  that  in 
fancy  I  see  the  pink  and  white  nose  of  my  fair  reader 
lift  a  little  at  the  disclosure  that  the  suggested  fields  of 
aromatic  flowers  prove  only  to  be  furrows  of  raw  earth 
hiding  bulbs,  but  only  think  how  many  of  the  flowers 
are  not  sent  away,  but  mingle  their  beauty  and  sweet- 
ness with  the  vast  bouquet  that  blossoms  all  over  such 
a  region.  And  only  think,  when  next  you  see  a  tube- 
rose in  bloom,  that  it  was  in  the  Old  North  State  that 
it  started  on  its  fragrant,  and,  alas !  too  often  pathetic, 
mission. 

284 


It  will  be  equally  interesting  to  all  my  readers — for  I 
fear  I  have  not  been  altogether  successful  with  my  spe- 
cial address  to  the  fair  ones  alone — to  know  that  in  Ka- 
leigh  thousands  and  tens  of  thousands  of  rose-cuttings 
are  planted  in  the 
gardens  and  fields 
for  the  JS'orth- 
ern  market.  The 
Northern  florists 
send  the  cuttings 
down  to  be  planted 
and  kept  a  year  in 
order  that  they 
may  grow  roots, 
and  that  each  may 
become  a  plant,  a 
baby  rose  bush. 
Then  they  are 
shipped  back  in  the 
spring  to  be  sold  as 
young  plants.  It  is 
too  expensive  to  do 
this  under  glass,  as 
it  would  have  to  be 
done  in  the  North, 
but  it  costs  a  mere 
trifle,  by  compari- 
son, to  assist  nature 
at  the  task  down 
there  in  Raleigh  ; 
for  in  that  clement 

city  the  people  actually  keep  tulips,  hyacinths,  and  such 
plants  out  in  their  door-yards  all  winter.  Thus  does 
North  Carolina  so  cheapen  the  flowers  with  which  we 
deck  ourselves  and  our  homes,  and  which  we  have  so 

285 


STOCKADE   AT   THE   STATE  PRISON, 
RALEIGH 


long  mistaken  for  Kortherners,  like  ourselves.  She  may 
be  said  almost  to  hand  them  to  us — in  the  profusion  in 
which  we  have  them,  at  least — as  a  charming  sister 
brightens  the  chamber  of  a  gallant  knight. 

With  the  flowers  go  the  fruits,  as  they  naturally 
should.  The  growing  of  berries  and  of  garden-truck  is 
an  industry  that  has  developed  truly  magnificent  pro- 
portions in  North  Carolina.  It  is  mainly  confined  to  the 
sea-coast  section,  but  it  is  rapidly  covering  the  whole  of 
the  front  of  the  State.  This  particular  phase  of  the  in- 
dustrial revolution  in  the  South,  which  we  shall  have  to 
mention  again  and  again  as  different  sections  are  treat- 
ed, may  not  be  as  revolutionary  as  the  appearance  of  the 
cotton-manufacturers  in  such  great  force  in  three  of  the 
States,  but  it  is,  nevertheless,  very  remarkable.  Along 
the  Atlantic  edge  of  Virginia,  the  Carolinas,  Georgia, 
and  Florida  the  planters  in  the  ante-helium  time  grew 
little  else  than  cotton,  and  depended  wholly  on  the 
money  it  brought  for  the  purchase  of  everything  else, 
even  to  the  goods  that  w-ere  made  of  the  cotton.  If 
vegetables  and  small  fruits  were  seen  to  grow  on  this 
land  in  those  days  the  fact  made  no  impression,  and  the 
insignificant  produce  got  only  contempt.  But  cotton  fell 
in  value  ;  it  proved  itself  a  monarch  in  w^hich  too  many 
persons  had  trusted  blindly.  There  ensued  an  era  of 
distress  and  gloom.  It  was  in  southeastern  Virginia, 
close  to  the  borders  of  North  Carolina,  that  the  warm 
climate,  the  humid  atmosphere,  and '  the  rich  soil  were 
found  to  offer  the  essentials  for  maturing  small  fruits 
and  vegetables  in  advance  of  those  for  which  the  North- 
ern people  waited  yearly  with  impatience.  Here  truck- 
farming  grew  from  an  experiment  to  a  successful  indus- 
try. Then  came  the  travel  to  Florida  as  a' winter  resort, 
and  then  the  almost  wild  scramble  for  land  in  that  State 
for  orange  orchards — a  scramble  in  which,  as  I  have 

286 


shown,  the  land  that  grew  no  oranges  and  that  which 
grew  poor  oranges  went  with  the  rest.  The  natural 
shortening  of  the  journey  between  Florida  and  the  Xorth 
was  rapidly  brought  about  by  railroad  combinations  and 


PREPAiiiNcs  tubi<:rose  bulbs  for  the  northern  market 

enterprise,  and  by  the  perfection  and  increase  of  steam- 
ship facilities.  Thus  easy  access  to  the  Northern  mar- 
ket was  afforded  all  the  coast-line  between  Florida  and 

287 


A  WILMINGTON  RESIDENCE 


I^^orfolk,  the  first  market-town  of  the  new  trade  in  garden- 
truck.  As  each  State  grasped  the  new  opportunity  the 
arrival  of  spring  and  summer  produce  was  hastened  in 
the  ISTorth,  and  Georgia  came  to  be  first  with  her  treas- 
ures, then  South  Carolina,  next  North  Carolina,  and  then 
Virginia,  last  where  'she  had  been  first,  but  still  in  de- 
mand to  lengthen  the  link  between  summer  and  summer, 
and  to  shorten  the  period  of  winter  deprivation  in  the 
I^orth.  As  early  as  1884  Charleston  alone  was  shipping, 
half  a  million  quarts  of  strawberries,  a  tenth  as  many 
barrels  of  potatoes,  and  62,333  packages  of  vegetables  in 
a  season. 

To-day  the  Commissioner  of  Agriculture  announces 
truck-farming  to  be  "  among  the  foremost  occupations 
in  North  Carolina  as  a  money  resource."     The  best  dis- 

288 


trict  is  around  New-Berne,  where  there  are  8000  acres 
planted  in  strawberries,  asparagus,  green  pease,  cab- 
bages, beans,  kale,  beets,  turnips,  Irish  potatoes,  toma- 
toes, cucumbers,  egg-plants,  radishes,  etc.  During  the 
shipping  season  the  railroad  has  run  from  one  to  three 
trains  a  day  from  this  district,  and  two  steamers  have 
made  five  trips  a  week  laden  with  the  produce.  It  is 
said,  as  a  result  of  careful  calculation,  that  this  New- 
Berne  section  realized  $750,000  from  its  produce  in  the 
season  of  1891,  and  the  farmers  netted  half  a  million  of 
dollars.  Wilmington,  Elizabeth  City,  Goldsboro,  are 
other  large  shipping-points  for  other  districts,  but  there 
are  many  others  that  are  marked  by  mere  railway  side- 
tracks, where  many  cars  are  loaded  daily  in  the  season. 
There  is  a  good  deal  of  very  enlightened  farming  down 
there,  and,  in  consequence,  there  are  farmers  whose  prof- 
its at  the  end  of  a  single  year  are  what  the  mass  of  men 


A  CAROLINA   MANSION 

289 


would  call  fortunes.  On  one — the  farm  most  wisely 
managed,  perhaps — we  find  170  head  of  cattle,  QQ  horses, 
139  hogs,  a  dairy,  a  saw-mill  for  the  needs  of  the  box- 
factory,  and  a  fertilizer-making  plant.  On  this  farm  600 
acres  were  put  into  truck  last  year,  and  300  were  sown 
with  oats  and  grass.  When  one  considers  how  short  a 
time  it  is  since  the  farmers  there  were  exclusively  plant- 
ers of  cotton,  and  what  a  precarious  living  their  meth- 
ods brought,  this  seems  indeed  a  long  stride  ahead. 

And  this  is  not  true  merely  of  the  truck  region  of  the 
coast.  ''  The  low  price  of  cotton  and  the  high  price  of 
everything  else,"  as  one  State  official  put  it,  "  have  led 
the  farmers,  in  great  numbers,  to  diversify  their  industry 
and  to  raise  what  they  consume  at  home."  More  meat 
was  killed  in  North  Carolina  last  year  than  ever  before. 
Hogs,  cattle,  horses,  milk,  butter,  fruit,  vegetables,  and 
corn  are  products  that  are  increasing  very  rapidly. 
Sheep  also  are  multiplying,  though  sheep-raising  calls 
for  so  much  outlay  in  guarding  the  stock  against  dogs 
that  only  men  with  capital  make  a  business  of  it.  Ra- 
leigh is  now  supplied  with  all  the  milk  and  butter  it  uses, 
though  not  sufficient  dairying  is  yet  done  to  make  the 
products  articles  of  export.  The  result  of  all  this,  as 
might  have  been  expected,  has  been  a  remarkable  re- 
moval of  mortgages  all  over  the  State  within  the  past 
few  years.  And  this  prosperity  reflects  upon  the  State 
itself,  so  that  her  debt  is  trifling,  and  at  least  one  issue 
of  bonds  by  the  commonwealth  rates  almost  as  high  as 
the  bonds  of  the  Federal  government. 

The  revolution  is  also  reflected  in  the  cities.  Wil- 
mington is  a  bustling,  wide-awake  town,  with  a  solid 
and  very  active  business  quarter,  and  all  the  superficial 
signs  of  a  prosperous  and  ambitious  population.  Char- 
lotte, the  richest  city  in  the  State,  has  invested  so  heav- 
ily in  cotton-mills  and  other  ventures  in  various  other 

290 


towns  and  sections  that  it  is  said  she  would  have  a  pop- 
ulation of  60,000  were  her  industries  all  at  home.  It 
is  doubtful  whether  the  place  would  then  be  as  inviting 
as  it  is  now,  for  though  it  is  busy,  it  is  also  beautiful. 


"^''^^ 


COUKT-HOUSE   AND   CITY   HALL,  WILMINGTON 


Raleigh,  the  capital,  which  is  so  well  shaded  that  a 
bird's-eye  view  of  it  discloses  little  else  than  trees, 
is  at  once  neat  and  substantial,  and  rather  more  l^orth- 
ern  than  Southern  looking,  except  for  the  (typically 
Southern)  great  width  of  its  main  streets.  xVnd  yet 
these  are  paved  and  well  cared  for,  besides  being  busy. 
The  city  is  credited  with  1Y,000  inhabitants,  and  main- 
tains three  cotton -mills,  several  machine-shops,  two 
fertilizer-factories,  an  oil-mill,  a  car-works,  and  several 

292 


candy-factories,  one  of  which  is  celebrated  far  beyond 
Ealeigh.  It  is  also  a  trading  centre,  and  has  large  com- 
mercial establishments.  All  these  businesses  are  sup- 
plied with  local  capital,  and  it  is  important  to  add  that 
this  is  generally  the  case  in  both  the  Carolinas. 

Ealeigh  has  several  fine  educational  foundations,  but 
one  that  interested  me  very  much  indeed  was  the  Col- 
lege of  Agricultural  and  Mechanic  Arts.  The  other 
Southern  States  possess  more  or  less  similar  institu- 
tions, maintained  with  Federal  aid,  and  if  they  are  in 
any  great  degree  as  well  and  even  proudly  managed  as 
this  of  North  Carolina,  it  is  a  grand  thing,  particularly 
Avhere  men  have  been  too  prone  to  think  it  undignified 
to  work  for  themselves.     Here  we  find  an  expensively 


\GRICULTUIIAL   SCHOOL   AND 
DORMITORIES,  RALEIGH 


housed  and  well -equipped  institution,  which,  although 
only  four  years  old,  has  already  graduated  one  class, 
two-thirds  of  whose  members  obtained  situations  at  once. 
Both  teachers  and  pupils  were  ahke  enthusiastic  when 

I  found  there  a  fine 
393' 


1  went  throuo^h  the  buildino^s. 


smithy,  a  forge-room,  a  machine-shop  (in  which  stood 
a  steam-engine  made  by  the  graduates) ;  a  wood-turn- 
ing department  and  joiner-Avork  class-room  ;  a  very  fine 
chemical  laboratory  presided  over  by  an  ambitious  Cor- 
nell man  ;  a  model  barn,  a  dairy  building,  a  large  ex- 
perimental farm,  and  an  agricultural  experiment  and 
State  weather  station.  The  young  men  are  here  fitted 
to  become  intelligent,  educated,  and  practical  farmers, 
horticulturists,  cattle  and  stock  raisers,  dairymen,  as 
well  as  machinists,  carpenters,  architects,  draughtsmen, 
manufacturers,  and  contractors.  I  do  not  mean  to  claim 
too  much  in  saying  this ;  what  I  do  mean  is  that  they 
learn  the  rudiments  of  these  occupations,  as  well  as  to 
use  their  brains  and  their  hands.  A  full  mathematical 
course  is  part  of  the  curriculum,  and  a  much  more  im- 
portant source  of  strength  to  each  pupil  is  the  associa- 
tion with  the  ambitious  3^oung  fellow^s  of  the  State,  and 
the  daily  intercourse  with  the  able  and  accomplished 
members  of  the  faculty.  Here  were  some  boys  from 
very  humble  homes,  and  yet  so  intent  upon  becoming 
masters,  instead  of  dependents,  as  to  be  found  waiting 
on  the  others  at  the  dining-table  in  order  to  earn  their 
living  while  they  studied.  A  certain  number  of  pupils 
are  admitted  free,  subject  to  an  examination  in  rudi- 
mentary studies.  They  pay  $8  a  month  for  board  and 
extras.  The  others  pay  $20  a  year  for  tuition  in  addi- 
tion to  the  same  charge  for  board  and  extras. 

But  the  good  work  of  the  institution  does  not  stop 
there.  The  officers  reply  to  all  requests  for  informa- 
tion by  the  farmers  of  the  State,  and  hold  farmers'  meet- 
ings wherever  requested  for  the  discussion  of  subjects 
connected  with  practical  farming.  Dr.  II.  B.  Battle,  as 
head  of  the  experiment  station,  also  issues  frequent  and 
very  valuable  bulletins,  sent  free  to  thousands  of  farm- 
ers, telling  them  how  to  guard  against  insect  pests, 

294 


Avarning  them  against  inferior  or  fraudulent  fertilizers, 
discussing  methods  of  farming,  explaining  how  waste 
can  be  prevented,  how  they  can  determine  the  best 
things  to  grow,  and,  in  a  sentence,  scattering  the  most 
practical  and  most  needed  advice,  in  thick  pamphlets 
as  well  as  mere  fly-sheets,  among  the  agriculturists  of 
the  State.  Further  yet,  the  station  is  pushing  an  al- 
most unique  plan  of  spreading  information  by  sending 


PHOSPHATE   MINES   NEAR   WILMINGTON 

out  stereotyped-plate. matter  free  to  the  newspapers  of 
the  State.  Alexander  Q.  Halladay,  Esq.,  is  the  presi- 
dent of  the  college  and  its  allied  farm  and  stations. 

Leaving  agriculture  out  of  further  consideration,  we 
will  observe  that,  for  variety,  the  resources  of  the  State 
do  not  depend  upon  that  industry,  though  it  is,  of  course, 
mainly  and  primarily  a  farming  State.     But  its  turpen- 

395 


tine  stills  are  a  source  of  revenue,  its  forests  are  of  great 
extent  and  value,  its  fisheries  employ  about  6000  per- 
sons, gold-mining  is  carried  on  in  several  counties,  and 
the  quarrying  of  marble,  granite,  sandstone,  and  of  Bel- 
gian blocks  for  the  paving  of  city  streets  is  done  in 
man}^  parts  of  the  State.  The  story  of  the  traveller 
who,  on  being  shown  a  beautiful  piece  of  mahogany 
furniture,  replied,  "  Yes,  where  I  live  they  make  fence 
rails  of  mahogany,"  could  be  paralleled  by  many  citizens 
of  western  North  Carolina  if  any  were  called  upon  to 
admire  a  granite  building,  for  they  might  truly  say  that 
in  their  parts  of  the  State  there  are  towns  where  all  the 
fence  posts  are  made  of  granite.  Coal-mining  is  a  new 
industry  in  IN^orth  Carolina,  but  it  is  carried  on  with  all 
the  rest.  There  are  two  coal  belts  there.  A  company 
of  I^orthern  capitalists  is  working  a  rich  field  of  good 
bituminous  coal  at  Egypt,  and  another  Northern  com- 
pany owns  some  mines  of  what  is  called  semi-anthracite 
a  little  southwest  of  that  place.  At  Kings  Mountain  a 
company  has  been  formed  to  develop  a  tin-bearing  re- 
gion, which  it  is  thought  they  can  mine  profitably. 

The  exporting  of  grapes  and  even  the  manufacture  of 
wine  have  been  a  source  of  revenue  to  North  Carolina 
during  a  quarter  of  a  century.  A  new  and  quickened 
interest  in  these  businesses  is  shown  in  the  gradual  mul- 
tiplication of  vineyards,  and  in  the  profits  and  growth  of 
certain  of  the  older  ones,  and,  since  wild  grapes  are  said 
to  have  grown  naturally  all  over  the  State,  these  may 
yet  become  important  industries.  Mineral  springs  of 
more  or  less  celebrity  are  numerous  ;  and  of  popular  re- 
sorts for  tourists  and  invalids,  led  by  the  thriving  and 
beautiful  town  of  Asheville,  there  are  many,  as  well  as 
sites  for  ten  times  as  many  more,  in  the  healthful  and 
picturesque  mountain  districts.  The  population  of  tlie 
State  is  no  greater  than  that  of  New  York  city,  but,  un- 

396 


like  South  Carolina,  the  whites  are  nearly  twice  as  nu- 
merous as  the  negroes,  the  difference  (according  to  the 
last  census)  being  that  there  were  1,055,382  whites  and 
562,565  colored  persons.  One  would  argue  from  this 
fact  that  North  Carolina  would  attract  immigrants  in 
greater  number  than  almost  any  of  the  more  southerly 


NEGRO   CEMETERY   AT  WILMENGTON 


States,  and  yet  in  1890  there  were  only  3742  foreign- 
born  persons  in  the  State.  John  Eobinson,  Esq.,  the 
Commissioner  of  Agriculture,  says,  upon  this  subject : 
"  The  immigration  into  North  Carolina  is  largely  from 
the  New  England,  Middle,  and  some  of  the  Northwest- 

297 


ern  States,  and  gives  many  and  much-desired  and  much- 
valued  accessions  to  sources  of  material  development." 

It  seems,  then,  to  whatever  small  extent  this  increase 
comes,  the  Old  North  State  is  enjoying  what  the  most 
influential  men  in  all  the  Southern  States  desire  and  de- 
mand. The  South  wants  men  with  capital,  and  not  men 
with  mere  hands  and  energy  and  willingness  to  work. 
It  wants  men  who  will  buy  and  cultivate  plantations, 
who  will  establish  mills,  and  who  will  organize  corpora- 
tions for  the  development  of  its  resources. 

The  Charleston  News  and  Courier  of  ^N^ovember  22, 
1893,  says,  "  Those  who  would  not  make  desirable  citi- 
zens should  not  he  encouraged  to  seek  homes  in  the 
South."  After  arguing  that  those  farmers  in  New  Eng- 
land and  parts  of  the  AVest  whose  farms  are  poor  would 
do  w^ell  to  leave  them  and  go  South,  it  generously  as- 
serts that  there  is  room  for  such  new-comers  "as  the 
Germans,  Scandinavians,  Swiss,  Scotch,  and  Yankees  " 
— an  intentional  compliment,  for  he  adds,  "  none  hut  the 
lest  are  good  enough  for  South  Carolina^ 

298 


YIII 
WHERE   TIME   HAS   SLUMBERED 

"  Mebby  Mrs.  Cap'n  will  have  one,"  or,  "  You'd  better 
go  and  see  Mrs.  Cap'n,"  or,  "  If  there's  any  sich  thing 
around,  naebbe  Mrs.  Cap'n  '11  have  it."  These  things 
were  so  often  said  to  the  hunter  from  New  York,  who 
was  down  in  West  Yirginia  partly  for  deer,  and  largely 
for  relics  of  a  by-gone  era,  that  he  determined  to  see 
"  Mrs.  Cap'n,"  and  to  know  more  about  her.  There 
seemed  to  be  little  to  know,  and  that  was  told  readily  in 
answer  to  his  questions,  for  it  was  evident  that  she  was 
the  most  conspicuous  woman  on  the  mountain  on  which 
she  lived.  All  the  mountain  folk  knew  her  or  knew 
about  her,  but  at  the  same  time  it  became  clear  to  the 
stranger  from  New  York  that  there  was  some  little  mys- 
tery— something  kept  back.  It  was  said  of  her  that  she 
was  "  more  forehanded  "  than  most  women,  that  she  was 
very  industrious,  that  she  was  proud,  and  "  kep'  her  head 
well  up,"  and  that  she  had  been  a  widow  through  the 
best  part  of  her  life — a  widow  so  stricken  by  her  be- 
reavement that  no  man  had  since  been  able  to  make  any 
impression  upon  her  affections,  though  the  best  men  in 
that  section  had  tried.  That  in  itself  was  peculiar 
enough  to  make  her  conspicuous. 

Freely  as  this  was  told,  it  was  often  accompanied  by 
a  manner  that  led  the  stranger  to  fancy  there  was  more 
to  learn.  His  failure  to  break  through  this  reserve 
whetted  his  curiosity,  and  one  day  he  went  straight  to 

299 


the  woman  herself  in  her  cabin.  The  cabin,  externally, 
was  very  like  all  the  rest — a  little  log  house  with  a  stone 
chimney  projecting  from  one  end,  with  a  roof  made  of 
those  large  shingles  that  they  call  "clapboards"  down 
there,  with  a  row  of  three  small  window-panes  set  in 
the  end  opposite  the  chimney  for  an  extra  window,  in 
addition  to  the  real  window  that  was  beside  the  door- 
way, and  that  was  also  like  a  window  in  the  daytime, 
and  was  usually  left  open  to  serve  as  such.  Over  and 
in  front  of  the  door  was  a  rude,  ramshackle  porch.  It 
was  made  of  a  few  boards  held  up  at  the  outer  ends 
by  a  beam  laid  across  two  posts.  It  was  apparently 
maintained  to  protect  a  flooring  of  rough  logs  sunk  in 
the  irround,  but  it  could  shelter  them  only  from  such 
rare  rains  as  fell  straight  down  from  overhead,  so  that 
perhaps  its  best  service  was  to  accommodate  several 
bunches  of  dried  or  drying  "  yarbs."  They  hung  at  just 
the  right  height  beneath  the  porch  to  hit  a  visitor's  hat, 
and  cause  him  to  glance  quickly  around  for  the  assailant 
who  had  made  a  target  of  his  head-gear.  The  house  or 
cabin  stood  in  a  little  clearing  of  much  trampled  and 
furrowed  dirt,  with  its  chimney  end  towards  the  road, 
and  its  door  and  porch  facing  the  rest  of  "  Mrs.  Cap'n's  " 
buildings — a  corn  and  tobacco  house,  a  stable,  and  a  pig- 
sty— properties  not  altogether  uncommon  in  those  moun- 
tains, and  yet  not  so  common  but  that  they  reflected 
proudly  upon  the  family  as  one  that  was  pretty  well-to- 
do  as  things  go  in  that  country.  The  corn-house  and 
pigsty  were  commonplace,  but  the  stable  was  one  to  ar- 
rest a  stranger's  attention.  It  was  built  on  the  plan  of 
a  canary-cage,  Avith  its  sides  almost  as  open  as  if  you 
were  expected  to  hand  in  hay  by  the  half-bale  to  the 
horse  through  the  space  between  the  boards,  or  to  pass 
him  in  a  pail  of  water  whenever  he  was  thirsty,  without 
bothering  with  the  door.     And  even  that  kind  of  stable 

300 


is  commonplace  in  West  Virginia,  for  that  is  the  kind 
they  build  there,  either  because  the  climate  is  never  se- 
vere, or  possibly  because  a  great  storm  would  blow  right 
through  the  building  without  carrying  it  away,  as  the 
winds  pass  through  a  net-work  banner  in  the  streets. 
But  that  is  a  mere  ignorant  conjecture,  such  as  a  stran- 
ger might  make,  since  West  Virginia  is  one  of  the  few 
of  our  commonwealths  that  are  free  from  reallv  bio- 
American  weather,  with  all  that  the  term  implies. 

"  Can  I  come  in  ?"  said  the  hunter  from  Kew  York, 
pausing  in  the  open  doorway. 

''  Yaas ;  come  in  and  hev  a  warm,"  said  a  man  who 
sat  before  some  blazing  logs  in  the  deep  tall  recess  in  the 
Dutch  chimney.  "  Draw  up  a  cheer  by  the  fire  and 
hev  a  w^arm." 

"Is  this  Mrs.  Captain's?" 

"  Yaas,"  said  the  man ;  "  Mrs.  Cap'n  is  my  sister. 
She's  up  above.  That's  her  a-shakin'  things  Avith  her 
loom — makin'  a  little  rag  kyarpet  fer  Killis  Kyars  folks. 
Sence.  Killis  Kyar's  moved  into  his  new  house  on  the 
valley  road  his  gals  is  mighty  ticky.  And  yit "  (thought- 
fully) "  they  ain't  nothin'  like's  ticky  as  some.  When 
I  see  the  young  folks  that's  so  awful  nice  about  hevin' 
kyarpets  on  the  floor  an'  curtings  on  the  winders  and 
that-all,  I  often  say  to  'em,  '  Ef  you-all  could  see  how 
yer  fathers  lived  Avithout  none  of  them  things,  you-all 
wouldn't  be  so  ticky.'  " 

"But  you've  got  a  carpet  here — and  curtains,"  said 
the  stranger. 

"  Oh,  we  hev,"  said  the  man.  "  That's  Mrs.  Cap'n — 
she's  different." 

It  Avas  evident  that  she  and  much  besides  were  differ- 
ent, as  the  old  man  said.  We  shall  see  that  most  moun- 
tain cabins  are  bare  (floor,  ceiling,  walls,  and  all),  but 
here  was  a  floor-covering  of  rag-carpet,  and  the  w^indow 

302 


had  a  small  section  of  a  yellow  lace  curtain  drawn  across 
it,  and  the  ceiling  was  clean,  instead  of  being  grimy  with 
smoke  like  most  others.  And  there  were  several  tin- 
types grouped  together  not  inartistically  on  one  wall, 
and  some  gay  lithographs,  such  as  one  gets  at  a  country 
grocery,  on  the  opposite  wall.  Two  long  mountain  rifles, 
made  pretty  by  brass- work  inlaid  in  the  stocks,  orna- 
mented two  rafters,  and  some  powder-horns  and  pouches 
and  a  dog-horn — the  very  sort  of  curios  the  hunter  was 
seeking — hung  upon  other  rafters.  But  the  marvel  of 
marvels  in  the  cabin  was  one  of  the  beds.  It  was  a  cen- 
tury-old "  four-poster,"  standing  so  high  above  the  floor 
that  no  man  could  reach  the  tops  of  the  solid  fluted  posts, 
and  no  man  would  care  to  meet  with  such  a  mishap  as 
to  fall  from  the  bedding  to  the  floor.  As  the  stranger 
looked  about  him  the  old  man  followed  his  eyes,  and 
commented  upon  whatev^er  they  took  in. 

"  Yaas,"  said  he ;  "  Mrs.  Cap'n  is  different,  you  know. 
That's  hern,  that  big  bed.  Me  and  young  Cap'n,  when 
he's  to  home,  sleeps  on  that  low  bed  thar  "  (nodding  at 
an  ordinary  bed  made  up  in  a  sort  of  low  open  box  that 
sat  on  the  floor  without  legs  beneath  it).  "  Them  guns 
and  things  she  takes  fer  the  kyarpets  and  jeans  she 
weaves,  and  sells  'em  to  strang-ers  like  you-all  fer  ten 
times  what  they're  wuth.     Them  picters  is  hern  too." 

"  Everybody  speaks  highly  of  her ;  she  must  be  a  re- 
markable woman,"  said  the  stranger. 

"  Waal,  'tain't  tliat^  so  much,"  said  the  old  man,  paus- 
ing, and  puffing  at  his  pipe,  and  reflecting  rather  dream- 
ily as  he  began  to  talk.  "  I  reckon  it's  the  hard  times 
she's  had,  an'  the  way  she's  bore  up  through  it.  Her 
husband  bein'  killed  so  quick,  an'  her  mournin'  for  him 
so  stiddy.     I  reckon  that's  it." 

"  How  was  he  killed  ?" 

'•  The  Cap'n  \    He  was  shot  takin'  some  deserters  into 

303 


camp ;  ambushed  not  more'n  a  mile  away  from  here.  I 
reckon  that's  why  folks  is  so  set  towards  her.  He  on'y 
was  here  a  short  time,  but  he  stuck  to  her  'bout  all  the 
time  he  could  spare.  Our  house  was  his  quarters  till  the 
General  give  orders  to  forwarcl  the  hull  of  the  army  on 
further  west.  I  was  away,  'listed  on  the  Confed'rit  side ; 
but  I'm  Union  now — because  the  Cap'n  was  Union. 
Anyhow,  'most  nine  in  ten  'round  here  was  always  Un- 
ion. My  sister  was  Union  soon  as  she  seen  the  Cap'n, 
tho'  she  hadn't  been  before.  That's  near  thirty  year 
ago,  and  she's  been  mournin'  and  takin'  on  ever  since. 
They  were  jist  surely  cut  out  for  one  another,  and  were 
agreed  to  be  married,  an'  everything  was  arranged — and 
then  he  was  ambushed  by  some  friends  of  the  men  he 
was  arrestin'." 

"  What  was  his  name  ?" 

"Thar,  now,"  said  the  old  man,  "she  kin  tell  you 
that.  I  never  could  just  rightly  remember  it.  Her 
bein'  called  '  Mrs.  Cap'n '  by  they -all  just  drove  his  name 
outer  my  head.  He  was  from  Ohier — I  know  t/icit 
— and  had  a  name  you  couldn't  take  hold  of  easy, 
endin'  in  '  berger,'  or — no,  maybe  it  wasn't  just  '  berger ' 
neither." 

At  this  point  a  cessation  of  the  regular  thud-thud  of 
the  loom  overhead  gave  notice  that  Mrs.  Cap'n  was  rest- 
ing. A  moment  later  her  voice  sounded  down  through 
the  square  hole  at  the  top  of  the  ladder  that  served  for 
the  stairs  to  the  second  stor}^ 

"  Pole !"  the  voice  said ;  "  what  does  he  want,  Pole  f' 

"  Well,  I  declare ;  that's  so,"  said  the  old  man  ;  "  what 
did  you  want — anything  'sides  a  warm  ?  I  reckon  may- 
be you'd  like  a  cold  slice." 

"  No,"  said  the  stranger ;  "  I  came  to  see  if  I  could 
buy  an  old  gun,  like  one  of  those  I  see  you  have  there. 
I  heard  your  sister  had  one  or  two." 

304 


''  Reckon  you  d  better  come  down,  Tish,"  said  the  old 
man.     "  He  wants  one  o'  your  rifles,  maybe." 

With  much  deliberation  and  extraordinary  disturbance 
of  mind  over  her  skirts,  which  were  as  contumacious  as 
they  might  be  expected  to  be  when  forced  through  a 
two-foot  hole  and  down  a  ladder  nailed  against  a  wall, 
Mrs.  Letitia  Cap'n  (for  Tish  is  the  diminutive  of  Letitia 
in  those  mountains)  came  down  into  the  main  room.  Ex- 
cept that  she  was  not  as  shy  as  most  mountain  women  in 
the  presence  of  a  strange  man,  she  was  very  like  the  rest 
— a  spare,  angular  woman  of  middle  age,  in  a  dress  that 
was  as  simple  as  a  woman's  dress  could  be,  and  that  con- 
sisted of  a  plain  Avaist  of  pink  calico,  and  a  plain  skirt 
of  the  same  stuif  that  no  more  than  reached  to  her  shoe- 
tops.  She  differed  from  the  other  women  whom  the 
stranger  had  seen  thereabouts  in  that  she  wore  a  white 
apron — a  superfluity  trifling  in  itself,  and  yet  impressive 
in  the  effect  of  neatness  and  self-respect  that  it  produced. 
Perhaps,  too,  she  was  more  comely  than  her  neighbors 
in  the  sight  of  the  mountain  men.  Thev  could  make 
closer  comparisons  than  a  stranger  might.  To  this 
stranger  who  now  regarded  her  she  had,  in  common  with 
the  rest,  the  colorless  lips,  the  pinched  features,  and  the 
lack-lustre  eyes  of  all  the  typical,  badly  nourished,  over- 
worked, dyspeptic  mountain  folk.  At  the  suggestion  of 
an  offer  of  his  right  hand  by  the  stranger,  she  put  both 
her  long  bony  hands  behind  her  back — not  rudely,  but 
from  a  blending  of  awkwardness  and  shyness.  The 
bartering  for  the  gun  being  over,  the  stranger  remarked 
that  he  and  her  brother  had  been  speaking  of  ^'  the  Cap- 
tain." Something  very  like  a  spark  of  life  lighted  up 
the  woman's  eyes  when  the  subject  was  introduced,  and 
she  stepped  to  the  wall  and  took  down  two  pictures — 
both  tintypes, 

'^This  is  Cap'n's  picture,"  said  she,  handling  one  ten- 

306 


derly,  and  offering  it  with  a  little  enthusiasm,  as  some- 
thing certain  to  be  admired,  though  it  was  a  wretchedly 
bad  piece  of  workmanship.  It  was  a  photograph  of  a 
soldier  in  uniform. 

"  And  hain't  this  one  like  him  ?"  she  asked,  putting 
the  other  card  in  the  stranger's  hand.  He  saw  no  re- 
semblance to  one  in  the  other ;  but  understanding  that 
even  a  bad  picture  may  convey  a  perfect  portraiture  to 
the  mind  of  one  who  knows  the  face  that  is  hinted  at, 
he  avoided  her  question,  and  asked  whose  was  the  sec- 
ond portrait. 

"  It's  young  Cap'n's — my  son's,"  said  she,  very  proud- 
ly ;  "  and  I  can  see  the  Oap'n  growing  up  in  him  all 
over  again  when  I  look  at  him.  To  me  it's  just  like 
the  Cap'n  had  come  back,  fer  they're  both  the  same 
age.  Young  Cap'n  is  about  twenty-nine,  and  so  was 
his  father  when  he  was  killed." 

The  stranger  looked  at  the  tintypes  more  closely.  To 
him  the  face  of  the  soldier  appeared  that  of  a  vain  and 
weak  man.  The  low  brow,  the  immense  mustachios 
curled  up  at  the  ends,  the  small  eyes,  and  the  abnormal 
breadth  of  the  face  at  the  cheek-bones  suggested  some- 
thing that  quite  startled  him — the  possibility  that  the 
Captain  had  been  such  a  man  as  might,  had  he  lived, 
have  broken  the  heart  of  the  woman  who  now  held  his 
memory  so  sacred. 

"Young  Cap'n's  on  the  railroad — telegraph  opera- 
tin',"  said  she.  "When  he  comes  home  I  see  him  and 
his  father  together.  You  hain't  from  Ohier,  be  yer? 
No?  'Cause  there  wuz  a  man  from  Ohier  'bout  ten 
year  ago — I  just  can't  happen  to  think  out  his  name — 
and  he  told  'round  that  the  Cap'n  was  married  a'ready 
when  he  'listed  fer  the  war.  Pole  here — my  brother — 
might  'a'  found  out  what  the  man  knew,  if  he'd  a-been 
more  keerful.     I  was  sorry  fer  what  you  done,  Pole, 

307 


and  you  know  it — gittin'  down  your  ole  rifle  and  hunt- 
in'  the  man  oaten  the  country,  the  way  you  done." 

"  I'd  like  to  'a'  raised  my  ole  gyurl  rifle  on  that  crit- 
ter till  his  head  darkened  the  sight,"  said  the  old  hunter. 
"That's  all  me  and  my  ole  gyurl  wanted  that  time, 
Tish.  Keckon  I  was  too  keerful  with  Bird  Jiney,  too, 
mebbe." 

"  I  don't  say  you  was,  Pole,"  Mrs.  Captain  replied, 
"  fer  Bird  Jiney  was  ornery." 

She  then  explained  to  the  stranger  that  a  neighbor  of 
ttie  name  of  Jiney — a  man  so  contemptible  that  even 
his  folks  were  "  mean  "  (a  hard  thing  to  say  of  any  one) 
— had  "  dar'd  "  to  speak  slightingly  of  her  and  her  wid- 
owhood, and  that,  after  giving  him  fair  warning  to 
leave  the  country,  her  brother  had  met  hiiti  on  a  moun- 
tain road,  and  jerking  him  from  the  back  of  his  horse, 
had  dropped  him  over  the  edge  of  a  cliff.  Mrs.  Captain 
added  that  Jiney  had  not  been  killed,  but,  after  his 
broken  bones  had  healed,  had  gone  away  "  to  some  of 
them  cities  in  old  Yirginia"  to  start  life  over  again. 
After  an  interval  of  several  years  he  had  sent  her  the 
bed  on  which  she  had  slept  ever  since — the  huge  semi- 
royal  four-poster  close  by — far  and  away  the  most  im- 
pressive, pretentious,  and  costly  article  of  household  fur- 
niture in  the  county.  Mrs.  Captain  had  accepted  the 
gift  as  a  peace-offering,  she  being  a  very  thrifty  woman, 
and  the  bed  being  a  thing  that  could  not  be  sent  back 
without  great  expense.  After  that  she  had  expected 
Bird  Jiney  to  limp  back  into  the  neighborhood  among 
his  friends  and  family,  but  he  had  never  been  heard 
from  again. 

It  was  evident  that  brother  Pole's  energ}^  in  protect- 
ing his  sister  was  enough  to  account  for  the  brake  on 
the  gossiping  tendencies  of  the  neighbors.  He  made  it 
'•  unhealthy,"  as  they  say  out  West,  to  talk  too  much 

308 


THE   CIRCUIT- RIDEB 


about  Mrs.  Cap'n,  even  though  no  one  had  anything  but 
praise  to  speak  of  her. 

*'  They-all  round  here  says  I'm  proud,  mebbe,"  Mrs. 
Captain  continued;  "but  I'm  only  proud  fer  my  hus- 
band. If  he'd  'a'  lived  I'd  'a'  been  better  off  than  any 
of  they-all,  and  since  he  died  I'm  bound  to  work  and 
save  money,  and  live's  near  as  I  kin  to  the  way  he'd 
have  had  me.  If  I'm  puttin'  on,  I'm  on'y  puttin'  on  fer 
Cap'n — hain't  I,  Pole  ?  Mebbe  he's  where  he  kin  see 
me  and  the  kyarpet  like  he  told  me  he  had  in  Ohier, 
and  the  curting  and  —  and  the  bed  —  and  kin  see  me 
workin'  and  doing  my  best." 

"  She  don't  keer  fer  herself,"  said  the  old  man  ;  "  she 
on'y  thinks  of  him  and  young  Cap'n.  I  never  see  any- 
thing hke  it." 

"And  I  don't  keer  if  you're  fom  Ohier  er  not,"  she 
went  on;  "fer,  tell  the  truth,  your  voice  did  naturally 
remind  me  of  Ohier,  somehow.  I  don't  keer  if  Cap'n 
was  married  'fore  he  'listed  in  the  war." 

"  Tish !"  said  the  brother,  warningly. 

"jN'o,  Pole;  mebbe  it  don't  sound  fittin' — and  it  ain't 
fittin'  —  fer  any  one  to  say  that;  and  we  know  he 
couldnH  'a'  been  married ;  but  yit  if  Cap'n  had  a 
wife  in  Ohier  I  pity  her  with  all  my  heart.  He 
might  have  had  her,  Pole,  hut  I  just  certainly  had  his 
lover 

The  stranger  who  told  me  of  that  adventure,  as  w^e 
sat  before  a  log  lire  in  a  AVest  Virginia  tavern,  told  it 
to  illustrate  something  of  the  peculiarity  of  the  moun- 
tain people — not  so  much  by  the  woman's  history,  for 
that  was  peculiar  even  there,  but  by  the  setting  and  ac- 
cessories of  the  tale.  After  that  I  looked  in  many  a 
cabin  in  the  hope  that  I  might  see  the  great  bed,  which 
stood  transfigured  in  my  mind  as  a  sort  of  altar,  but  I 
never  saw  it  or  the  woman,  who,  without  acknowledg- 

310 


ing  or  even  realizing  her  fault,  retrieved  it  so  complete- 
ly afterwards. 

The  mountain  districts  of  West  Virginia  are  as  strange 
in  their  primitive  population  as  in  their  tossed  and 
tumbled  surface.  The  cities  and  larger  towns  and  many 
of  the  cultivated  valleys  compare  favorably  with  those 
of  other  States,  and  it  is  not  of  them  that  I  am  writing. 
But  the  greater  part  of  the  State  is  made  up  of  moun- 
tains, and  it  is  there  that  we  see  how  unique  are  her 
people  and  their  ways.  New  Mexico,  with  its  glare  of 
sands  and  its  half-Mexican  population,  is  more  foreign, 
but  it  is  not  so  picturesque  nor  nearly  so  peculiar  as 
this  abiding-place  of  a  genuine  and  pure  American  pop- 
ulation, whose  civilization  has  stood  still  for  more  than 
a  century.  We  go  to  Europe  to  seek  what  is  less 
strange;  indeed,  it  is  a  far  journey  to  such  another 
anachronism  as  West  Virginia.  Those  reformers  who 
fancy  that  legislation  is  a  short-cut  to  virtue,  and  that 
nature  can  be  altered  by  a  change  of  statutes,  might  al- 
most find  their  dreams  realized  in  West  Virginia ;  for 
when  that  State  was  cut  off  from  Old  Virginia,  leav- 
ing the  old  Mother  of  Presidents  with  her  original 
boundaries  on  the  West,  the  progress  of  two  centuries 
and  a  half  seemed  also  to  have  been  cut  off.  And  West 
Virginia  began,  thirtN^  years  ago,  where  old  Virginia 
did,  witli  a  civilization  that  is  to-day  what  might  be  ex- 
pected of  thirty  years  of  settlement  in  a  rough  country. 

It  is  not  strange  that  travellers  should  find  the  scen- 
ery and  flora  of  the  AUeghanies  so  similar  from  Penn- 
sylvania to  Georgia  that  a  blindfolded  man  taken  to 
any  part  of  them  and  uncovered  could  never  tell  in 
which  State  he  stood.  The  mountain  altitudes  regu- 
late the  climate,  and  that  makes  all  the  rest  nearly  uni- 
form. But  it  is  strange  to  find  the  people  so  much 
alike  from  end  to  end  of  the  great  chain  of  mountains 

311 


— to  find  them  all  so  backward  and  simple,  all  so  tall 
and  spare  and  angular,  all  speaking  so  nearly  the  same 
dialect,  all  living  in  cabins  of  nearly  one  pattern,  and 
copying  one  another  even  in  sucii  little  details  as  lead 
them  to  use  one  sort  of  broad-strap  harness  that  one 
sees  put  upon  no  other  horses  than  theirs.  To  be  sure, 
the  valleys  run  parallel  up  and  down  the  ranges,  but 
there  are  passes  from  east  to  west,  and  through  some 
of  these  are  run  latter-day  railroads,  with  Pullman 
coaches, "  diners,"  and  the  accompaniments  of  telephone 
and  telegraph.  And  there  are  old  railroads,  too,  which 
long  ago  broke  through  the  fastnesses,  and  carried  the 
nineteenth  century  in  their  wake.  Yet  the  ok}  life 
turned  not  aside.  It  still  follows  the  trend  of  the  val- 
leys. And  the  new  life  hurries  through  as  if  it  was 
convej^ed  "  in  bond,"  as  we  send  goods  through  Canada 
to  Chicago.  At  any  point  on  the  frontier  or  in  the 
heart  of  West  Virginia  you  step  from  your  Pullman  to 
the  wagon  that  awaits  you,  and  the  length  of  a-  morn- 
ing's "  constitutional "  finds  you  in  the  dominion  of  a 
belated  century.  The  time  is  right  by  your  watch,  but 
your  pocket-calendar  is  a  hundred  years  too  far  ahead. 
It  is  true  that  the  present  era  jars  the  past  in  places. 
The  Chesapeake  and  Ohio  Kailroad,  which  bisects  the 
State,  is  modern  even  to  elegance,  but  thousands  of  the 
people  near  its  steel  threads  have  never  ridden  over  a 
mile  of  it.  That  very  modern  statesman  W.  L.  Wilson 
hails  from  there ;  but  the  life  in  the  mountains  is  so 
ancient  that  George  Washington,  were  he  back  on  earth, 
would  say,  after  a  tour  of  the  whole  country,  "  At  last, 
here  I  .find  a  part  of  the  world  as  I  left  it." 

I  went  into  West  Virginia  over  the  Pennsylvania 
border  last  summer,  and  put  up  at  a  mountain  -  spring 
resort.  There  was  a  clashing  of  two  centuries  there. 
The  arch  city  maiden  in  white  flannel  w^as  there  trim- 

312 


■4-    i 


A  FOOT-BKIDGE,  WEST  VIRGINIA 


ming  her  hat  with  butterflies,  sticking  a  hat -pin  into 
them  at  twenty  places,  "  so  as  to  find  tlieir  hearts  and 
kill  them  without  hurting  them  too  much,"  and  at 
night  she  banged  out  Sousa's  last  two-step  in  a  way 
that  filled  the  old  woods  with  the  breath  of  a  Michigan 
Avenue  boarding-house.  But  in  the  early  morning, 
when  her  flannel  suit  hung  over  a  chair,  and  her  "  white 
sailor"  sat  the  top  of  the  bedroom  pitcher  with  a 
rakish  cant  to  one  side,  the  squirrels  and  the  locusts  and 
katydids  had  the  forests  to  themselves,  and  the  early 
stirrers  on  the  mountain  roads  were  the  old-time  West- 
Yirginians,  as  simple  and  genuine  as  fresh  air. 

Observing  that  the  strangers  at  the  Springs  came 
from  unthought-of  distances  to  drink  the  sulphur  water 
that  bubbled  up  in  the  meadow  by  the  hotel,  they  too 
paid  the  tardy  century  the  compliment  of  drinking  its 
catholicon.     But  with  never-failing  shyness  thej^  always 

313 


came  at  sunup,  without  noise  or  bustle,  though  in  strong- 
force,  to  fill  their  pails  and  cans  and  blickeys  and  carry 
the  liquid  away.  They  and  the  nineteenth  -  century 
boarders  were  impressed  and  cozened  by  the  same  fact : 
the  water  sraelled  so  bad  and  tasted  so  nasty  that  it 
must  certainly  be  good  medicine.  I  never  will  forget 
how  the  mountaineers  interested  me.  The  women  came 
sidewise,  bobbing  lightly  up  and  down  on  the  horses, 
with  both  feet  side  by  side  on  the  animal's  ribs.  The 
capes  of  their  calico  hoods  waved  prettily  in  the  breeze. 
The  teamsters  knew  better  than  to  sit  on  the  jolting 
wagons  that  pounded  over  the  rocks  in  the  roads,  so 
each  saddled  the  left-hand  horse  of  his  team  and  rode  at 
ease,  while  the  horses  tugged  up  the  hills  with  a  force 
that  had  to  be  met  and  eased  by  means  of  the  harness 
of  broad  straps  w^hich  is  the  horse-gear  of  the  entire 
Appalachian  world.  The  little  boys  brought  trousers 
that  did  not  know  their  shoes,  never  having  met  them, 
and  jackets  that  mimicked  the  trousers  by  being  too 
short  —  in  the  sleeves  as  well  as  the  body.  The  little 
girls  were  bare  at  both  top  and  toe,  as  befitted  creatures 
that  did  not  hav^e  to  go  into  the  thorn  and  bramble 
thickets,  as  the  boys  had  to  do  in  order  to  be  boys.  But 
their  tubular  cotton  drawers  desired  to  see  as  much  of 
life  as  possible,  and  therefore  reached  below  their  little 
dresses.  All  alike  were  simple,  honest,  unobtrusive,  and 
shy.  Nothing  but  a  "  bush-meeting  "  seemed  powerful 
enough  to  bring  them  out  in  force,  but  at  that  they 
opened  their  shells  like  clams  at  high-water — for  every- 
where, from  one  end  of  the  mountains  to  the  other, 
they  are  deeply  religious.  They  are  *'  Baptis' "  and 
"  Methodys "  wherever  I  saw  them.  Mr.  Remington 
and  I  met  one  in  the  Potts  Creek  Valley,  over  near 
the  old  Virginia  line,  who  had  been  out  to  Oregon, 
and  was   doing   well   there,  but   came   back   to  Potts 

314 


Creek  ''because  they  didn't  respect   the  Sabbatli    out 
West." . 

There  are  church  buildings  in  the  villages,  but  the 
villages  are  few  and  far  apart,  and  in  this  particular 
place  the  custom  was  for  some  preacher  to  spring  as  it 
were  out  of  nowhere  and  to  announce  a  bush-meetinsf 
by  means  of  a  written  placard  nailed  to  a  tree  by  the 
spring.  It  was  to  be  held  at  two  o'clock  in  a  certain 
patch  of  woods,  so  commonly  and  frequently  the  scene 
of  such  meetings  that  the  rude  benches  made  of  planks 
nailed  to  tree  stumps  were  always  there,  and  kept  in 
good  order,  apparently  by  a  devout  mountaineer  who 
lived  in  the  nearest  cabin.  The  meeting  lasted  less 
than  an  hour,  but  the  people  made  it  the  affair  of  a  day. 
They  came  from  as  far  as  the  news  of  the  meeting  liad 
been  carried  by  the  equestrians  and  wagoners  who  had 
reined  up  at  sight  of  the  placard  and  halted  "  to  see 
what's  a-ffoin'  on."  Some;  therefore,  had  been  oblio^ed 
to  set  out  soon  after  breakfast  —  and  that  would  not 
make  a  long  journey  where  six  miles  of  road  may  loop 
over  the  top  of  a  tremendous  mountain,  up  which  the 
horses  crawl,  and  the  more  humane  men  lead  instead  of 
riding  them.  Before  noon  the  wagons  began  to  come 
in.  Bars  were  let  down  at  various  points  near  the 
camp-ground,  and  the  teams  were  tethered  to  the  trees 
in  half  a  dozen  scattered  parts  of  the  woods.  The 
wagons  were  such  as  one  sees  all  over  the  land,  made 
in  Racine,  Wisconsin,  or  South  Bend,  Indiana,  or  Cort- 
land, New  York.  Out  of  them  came  raen  and  women, 
gii'ls  and  boys,  and  even  babies.  By  noon  nearly  all  the 
w^orshippers  were  on  hand  —  strolling  from  hitching- 
place  to  hitching -place  to  see  who  had  come,  and  to 
gossip  with  friends  and  acquaintances.  It  is  wonderful 
how  far  and  wide  men  are  known  to  one  another  in 
these  mountains.     The  people  are  sociable  in   the  ex- 

815 


treme.  We  would  call  them  "  shiftless  "  as  a  race,  for  it 
is  a  fact  that  they  have  inherited  the  discouragement  of 
their  ancestors,  who  must  have  earl}^  given  up  the  effort 
to  wrest  more  than  a  bare  livino^  out  of  ao^riculture  in  a 
territory  that  is  rich  only  where  it  is  mined  for  coal  and 
iron  and  stone. 

Wherever  nature  refuses  a  living  in  return  for  fair 
effort,  humanity  becomes  stagnant  or  demoralized,  and 
in  West  Virginia,  still  the  great  game-preserve  for  the 
Middle  and  Atlantic  States,  the  rod  and  gun  were  early 
found  to  be  more  profitable  companions  than  the  plough 
and  shovel,  so  that  a  race  of  hunters  developed  there 
— hunters  with  the  patience  and  philosophy  that  the 
Indian  emphasizes,  and  that  lead  all  such  men,  white, 
red,  or  black,  to  snub  Dame  Fortune  if  she  comes  with 
that  heavy  tax  of  care  and  responsibility  which  we  call 
civilization,  and  which  the  woodsman  sees  through  as  if 
it  were  plate-glass,  and  regards  as  bringing  very  little  at 
a  very  great  cost. 

Therefore  these  mountain  folk  take  a  great  deal  of 
time  and  pains  to  know  one  another,  and  having  this 
wide  acquaintance,  they  solder  it  to  their  lives  with 
incessant  gatherings  like  this  bush-meeting.  They  hold 
"log-rollings"  and  "  corn-shuckings"  and  dances  and 
shooting-matches  and  "  gander-pulls,"  and  one  thing  or 
another,  to  make  up  a  circle  of  gatherings  that  reaches 
around  the  whole  year,  and  closes  around  every  life  in 
each  district.  I  paid  a  visit  one  day  at  the  tip-top  of  a 
mountain  and  at  the  end  of  a  trail  that  hadn't  one  other 
cabin  by  its  side.  To  me  the  cabin  seemed  a  mere  ac- 
centuation of  a  solitude  I  had  scarcely  believed  possible. 
I  remarked  to  the  woman  of  the  cabin  that  I  should 
have  thought  she  would  be  very  lonely.  Lonely  ?  That 
showed  my  ignorance.  Why,  there  never  passed  a  day 
on  which  some  of  the  "neighbors"  did  not  drop  in,  and 

316 


at  least  once  or  twice  a  week  she  would  ''  icit  to  ao 
'round  'mong  the  neighborhood  women."  Then  there 
was  "allers  some  of  the  neighborhood  chillun  and  her 
chillun  passin'  to  and  fro ;  an'  on'y  night  before  last 
there  was  a  corn-shuck  in'  and  a  dance  here ;  on'y  it 
wasn't  so  big  but  what  the  beds  was  left  standin',  'stid 
of  bein'  sot  out,  same  as  when  we  hev  a  big  dance ;  an' 
my  man's  got  some  corn  to  shuck  yit." 

To  return  to  the  out-door  church  service,  the  inter- 
change of  visits  was  followed  by  a  return  of  each  ]x\rty 
to  its  wagon  for  a  picnic  dinner  upon  whatever  had  been 
brought  along — cold  corn  pone  principally.  AVhen  all 
the  worshippers  gathered  at  the  bush-meeting  it  was 
seen  not  to  be  very  different  from  a  Northern  camp- 
meeting,  such  as  one  sees  in  New  Jersey  particularly. 
The  men  wore  soft  felt  hats  and  long  beards,  and  seemed 
never  to  have  combed  their  hair.  The  women  had  on 
broad-brimmed  black  straw  hats,  such  as  I  was  told  a 
mountain  woman  is  able  to  keep  and  use  for  "■'  Sunday 
best"  for  a  quarter  of  a  centur\^  The  boys  looked 
boldly  at  the  girls,  and  the  girls  looked  slyly  at  the  bo3^s 
out  of  the  tails  of  their  eyes.  The  sudden  rattling  of  a 
wagon  among  the  trees,  followed  by  a  loud  "  Whoa 
there !"  occasionally  sounded  above  the  prayer  and  song. 
Some  of  the  men  who  came  without  women  stood  away 
from  the  worshippers,  smoking,  and  talking  as  country- 
men converse,  in  broken  sentences  wide  apart,  with  the 
fractures  filled  up  by  vigorous  tobacco-chewing.  The 
preacher  was  a  woman — a  "  Mrs.  Lawson  of  Kentucky, 
the  celebrated  evangelist."  She  brought  a  young  man 
with  her  to  "  open  with  prayer,"  and  to  pass  around 
his  hat,  and  after  his  prayer  she  delivered  an  address, 
which,  if  it  were  right  to  pass  judgment  upon  it,  I  should 
declare  to  be  the  most  noisy  and  the  least  thoughtful 
sermon  or  talk  that  I  ever  heard.     There  was  singing 

318 


before  and  after  lier  address,  and  it  was  noticeable  that 
though  the  young  man  had  to  sing  nearly  the  whole 
first  verse  entirely  alone,  the  people  afterwards  sang 
the  remaining  verses,  though  there  was  not  a  book  or 
printed  copy  of  the  hymn  in  the  forest. 

In  the  eastern  part  of  the  8tate,  nearer  to  Virginia,  I 
found  that  the  circuit-rider  still  ministers  to  the  religious 
welfare  of  the  mountain  folks.  There  are  neat  little 
white  and  green  church  buildings  in  the  valleys,  but 
they  are  opened  only  once  a  month.  About  as  often 
as  that,  and  in  some  cases  regularly,  the  circuit-rider 
sends  word  of  his  coming  to  the  elders  or  deacons,  or 
puts  the  notice  in  the  country  paper  if  one  is  published 
near  the  meeting-house,  and  on  the  given  day  he  appears 
on  horseback,  with  a  few  extra  belongings  and  his  Bible 
and  song- book  rolled  up  behind  him  on  his  saddle. 
Wherever  he  preaches  he  has  a  large  meeting,  and  he 
*' boards  'round"  with  the  religious  families  in  the  old 
time-honored  Avay.  But  to  end  the  glimpse  I  got  of  the 
State  in  the  summer  requires  a  mention  of  the  moun- 
taineer laundress  at  ''  the  Springs."  Her  name  was 
''  Miss  "  Sony  Bow^ver — "  Miss  "  meaning  Mistress,  and 
''  Sony  "  being  the  abbreviation  of  the  not  uncommon 
name  of  Lasonia.  She  Avas  down  at  the  spring  with 
her  pitcher  for  the  day's  drinking  water. 

''  I\l  like  to  send  up  my  washing  to  you  this  after- 
noon," said  I. 

"I'd  ruther  you  Avouldn't,  not  to-day,"  said  "Miss" 
Bowyer.  "  It  would  just  certainly  muddle  me.  You 
see  how  it  is :  I'm  ironin'  the  Adamses  now,  and  1  hate 
ter  mix  the  families  up.  I'm  so  afraid  there'll  be  some 
mistake,  so  I  Avash  and  iron  each  family  separate.  To- 
day I'm  ironin'  the  Adamses,  and  in  the  morning  I'll 
Avash  the  Browns.  In  the  afternoon  I'll  iron  the 
BroAvns,   and   by  Wednesday   I'll  take  up —    What's 

319 


your  name  ?    Ralph  ?    Yes,  by  Wednesday  I'll  be  able 
to  wash  the  Ealphs." 

Yirginia,  according  to  the  historians,  was  settled  in 
1607 ;  and  West  Virginia,  the  territory  west  of  the 
mountains,  was  invaded  by  settlers  nearly  a  century 
and  a  half  later — in  1750.  "  Many  a  young  man,"  as 
I  read  somewhere,  "  married  the  girl  of  his  choice,  and, 
with  axe  in  belt  and  rifle  on  shoulder,  accompanied  by 
his  bride,  started  out  to  locate  on  a  purchase  of  land 
he  had  made  in  the  wild  but  beautiful  new  country." 
Beautiful  it  is  to-day,  and  very  largely  wild.  The  pictu- 
resque young  pioneer  felled  trees,  made  logs,  and  put 
up  a  cabin,  raising  a  chimney  of  rough  stones  at  the 
end  of  the  shant}^  against  the  arrival  of  the  winter,  if 
not  to  provide  for  immediate  culinary  needs.  He  hung 
his  rifle  and  pouch  and  powder-horn  on  the  rafters,  and 
his  wife  got  a  spinning-wheel  and  loom  somehow  from 
old  Virginia.  As  schools  did  not  follow  him  into  the 
woods  he  grew  up  with  a  mind  as  placid  as  a  mill-pond, 
unrufiied  by  any  of  those  dreams  and  doubts  which  in 
other  minds  elsewhere  became  the  fathers  and  mothers 
of  progress.  All  that,  says  the  historian,  was  in  and 
after  1750,  and  yet  it  is  very  little  different  now  in  by 
far  the  greater  part  of  West  Virginia.  The  cabins  are 
precisely  the  same  as  the  first  pioneer  would  have  built 
when  he  let  go  his  faithful  bride's  hand  and  began  to 
swing  his  axe.  The  flintlock  rifle,  nearly  seven  feet 
long,  that  he  first  shouldered,  he  ordered  cut  down,  and 
cut  down  again,  in  Richmond  and  Baltimore,  as  his 
carelessness  allowed  the  saltpetre  to  corrode  the  pan ; 
and  at  one  time  or  another  he  allowed  the  gunsmith  to 
tear  off  the  flintlock  and  make  his  piece  a  "  cushion  " 
gun — that  being  what  he  calls  a  rifle  that  fires  by  means 
of  a  percussion-cap.  Even  the  Winchester  is  creeping 
into  the  cabins  now.     The  young  bride,  reproduced  in 

320 


THE   UNITED   STATES  MAIL   IN   THE  MOUNTAINS 


her  progeny,  is  slowly  giving  up  the  use  of  her  spinning- 
wheel  and  loom,  because  there  is  no  profit  in  the  won- 
drous jean  she  makes,  at  less  than  a  dollar  a  yard,  and 
yet  factory  jean  brings  only  a  few  cents.  Nevertheless, 
there  is  still  some  call  for  her  art  to-day.  Plenty  of 
mountain  folk  are  wearing  homespun  stuff  from  their 
bodies  outward,  and  I  saw  two  spinning-wheels  and  two 
X  321 


looms  at  jvork  in  one  small  valley,  besides  hearing  of  at 
least  one  other  pair  of  these  last-century  machines  in  a 
cabin  I  did  not  visit. 

The  greatest  difference  between  the  present  time  and 
the  long  ago  is  seen  in  the  presence  of  numerous  free 
schools  all  over  the  mountains,  and  already  they  are 
awakening  the  people. 

I  made  notes  of  the  primitive  out-door  and  in-door 
scenes  in  the  parts  of  West  Virginia  where  I  wandered, 
and  perhaps  nothing  that  I  could  do  would  serve  the 
purpose  better  than  to  smoothly  transcribe  them  with- 
out their  losing  the  freshness  of  the  views  they  re- 
flect. The  scenery  is  the  same  from  the  middle  of 
Pennsylvania  to  Georgia — the  same  rounded,  wooded 
mountains ;  the  same  green,  often  fertile  valleys,  check- 
erboarded  with  farms;  the  same  stone-strewn  water- 
courses brawling  down  the  hill-sides  ;  the  same  frequent, 
almost  general,  forests  ;  the  same  few  roads  and  many 
trails;  the  same  log  cabins  ;  the  same  clearings.  Every- 
where the  same  deep  blue  hangs  overhead,  and  the 
mountains  turn  from  near-by  green  to  distant  purple. 
The  wood  fires  everywhere  send  up  thin  blue  veils  of 
smoke  above  the  cabins,  and  the  scenes  in  which  human- 
ity figures  are  played  by  characters  that  are  everywhere 
very  much  alike.  Perhaps  in  the  North  there  are  more 
covered  bridges,  but  the  rule,  over  the  entire  mountain 
system,  is  for  the  horses  and  wagons  to  cross  the  streams 
by  means  of  fords  over  ''  branches"  and  creeks  that  are 
floored  with  great  thicknesses  of  shaly,  flat,  smootli 
stones.  The  pedestrians  get  over  the  streams  by  means 
of  foot-bridges,  some  of  which  are  mere  tree  trunks  rest- 
ing on  cross-bucks,  and  some  of  which  are  quite  orna- 
mental though  sitnple  suspension-bridges,  w^ith  certainly 
one  hand-rail,  if  not  two,  beside  the  planking. 

It's  a  horseback  country.     There  are  main  roads  and 

822 


there  are  wagons  to  use  upon  them,  but  they  are  both 
''  valley  improvements,"  the  products  of  the  greater  fer- 
tility of  the  lowlands,  where  the  "quality"  lived  as 
planters  before  the  war  and  worked  large  tracts  with 
slaves,  or  where  the  small  farms  of  the  poor  whites  be- 
gat a  prosperous  middle  class  between  the  quality  folk 
and  the  mountaineers.  But  a  great  population  lives  on 
the  mountain -sides,  and  mountain  -  tops,  along  bridle- 
paths that  are  mere  trails,  and  these  are  not  at  all  fit 
for  wagoneering. 

It  has  never  occurred  to  any  one  to  clear  most  of 
these  trails.  They  run  up  and  down  the  steepest  in- 
clines that  a  horse  can  climb,  and  they  wind  through 
forests  and  jungles  of  low  growth  so  dense  that  I  had 
to  buy  canvas  ''chaps"  or  leggings  to  ward  off  the 
thorns.  Nevertheless  I  met  men,  and  even  women,  on 
these  trails  who  were  dressed  just  as  they  would  be  at 
home,  and  who  got  through  without  tatters — how,  I 
don't  know.  Often  the  vegetation  was  so  thick  that  if 
my  companions  or  I  halted  for  even  less  than  a  minute, 
those  Avho  kept  on  were  totally  lost  to  view.  This  wild- 
ness  is  on  tlie  steep  hill-sides.  Wherever  there  is  a  bench 
or  a  plateau  one  comes  upon  a  clearing  here  and  there, 
with  fields  sown  in  oats,  potatoes,  and  buckwheat,  and 
perhaps  a  little  tobacco,  to  be  rolled  into  twists  for  home 
consumption  and  for  barter  with  the  "  neighborhood 
men." 

It  is  on  the  wagon  roads  that  one  meets  the  greater 
number  of  people,  but  the  roads  are  not  exactly  Parisian 
boulevards.  Those  roads  that  cross  the  mountains  have 
a  queer  way  of  going  into  partnership  with  the  streams. 
Sometimes  they  run  up  the  streams,  so  that  at  high- 
water  a  farmer  fording  his  way  looks  like  a  human 
Neptune  floating  in  his  w^agon,  while  his  horses,  up  to 
their  bellies  in  the  crvstal  water,  show  neither  legs  nor 

323 


flippers.  Sometimes  the  stream  abandons  its  bed  and 
takes  to  the  roadway  for  a  piece,  each  such  interchange 
by  the  one  or  the  other  being  made  to  get  a  clear  right 
of  way  through  the  tree-cluttered,  bowlder-strewn  region. 
Down  in  the  valleys  the  roads  are  latticed  in  by  the 
,very  tallest  fences  that  are  anywhere  used  by  farmers. 
They  are  called  stake-and-ridered  fences,  and  are  made 
of  from  seven  to  eleven  rails  laid  zigzag,  one  pile  of 
bars  set  this  way  and  the  next  pile  set  the  other  way, 
with  at  least  one  "rider,"  and  sometimes  two,  perched 
on  tall  crossed  poles  above  the  rest.  Thus  does  West 
Virginia  pay  generous  tribute  to  the  agility  of  her 
mountain-bred  cattle,  poor  and  thin  to  look  at  or  get 
milk  or  beef  from,  yet  able  to  bound  about  like  self- 
propelling  rubber  balls. 

Between  these  towering  gridiron  fences  one  meets 
the  people.  Ah !  those  generous,  hospitable,  manly, 
frank,  and  narrow-minded  people!  Now  it  is  two 
women  that  one  meets — a  mother  and  daughter,  both 
on  one  horse,  the  mother  on  the  saddle  and  the  daugh- 
ter behind  her  on  an  old  shawl.  They  sit  as  if  the 
horse  was  a  chair,  with  their  four  shoes  in  a  row, 
and  their  big  hoods  bobbing  in  unison.  Next  comes  a 
farmer  astride  his  steed,  with  a  sack  of  meal  in  front  of 
him,  the  wind  blowing  the  front  of  his  soft  hat  up 
against  the  crown,  and  the  horse's  sides  working  his 
trouser-legs  up  so  as  to  show  his  blue  and  white  home- 
knit  woollen  stockings.  All  along  the  sides  of  the  road 
are  pigs — the  Africans  of  the  brute  creation — grunting 
contentedly,  and  eating,  and  clinging  to  the  places 
where  the  sun  is  hottest.  Deer-hounds  skulk  along 
wherever  there  are  houses — the  instruments  of  a  short- 
sighted people  for  the  ruin  of  the  game  which  brings 
them  not  merely  food,  but  the  generous  patronage  of 
holiday  huntsmen  from  all  over  the  North  and  East. 

8S4 


A  PRIVATE   HUNTER 


And  here  comes  a  wagon  with  its  driver  a-horseback, 
driving  two  of  the  four  horses  that  are  hitched  by  a 
net- work  of  broad  black  leather  bands  to  a  rumbling 
green  box-wagon,  loaded  either  with  lumber,  stone,  or 
corn,  you  may  be  sure.  The  district  doctor,  certain  to 
be  the  only  "  citified "  man  in  a  rude  district,  comes 
lolloping  along  on  a  better  horse  than  his  neighbors 
own,  with  his  medicines  in  a  leather  roll  on  the  back  of 
his  saddle,  under  his  coat-tails. 

"What  sort  of  cases  make  up  your  practice,  doctor?" 

"  Dyspepsia  and  child-birth — that  is  about  all,"  he 
says,  speaking  the  good  English  he  learned  at  home  in 
old  Virginia  and  in  college. 

"  And  gunshot  wounds  V 

"  Only  accidental  ones,  and  those  very  rarely,"  he 
replies. 

"  What  of  the  morals  of  the  people  back  in  the 
mountains,  doctor  ?" 

"  They  have  their  own  code,  sir ;  one  that  differs 
slightly  from  that  of  more  polished  folk,  but  it  is  hon- 
est. They  do  not  regard  it  as  criminal  to  make  moon- 
shine whiske}^  They  make  it  because  that  is  the  only 
w^ay  they  can  get  it.  Marriages  which  you  would  say 
might  better  have  been  hurried  are  not  uncommon,  but 
here  they  preserve  good  names  unharmed.  There  is 
little  or  no  laxness  beyond  that.  There  is  very  little 
vagabondage  of  any  sort.  We  have  no  tramps,  no 
thieves,  except  a  few  who  filch  corn  and  meat  rather 
tlian  beg  for  it.  Ambushing  has  not  been  practised  for 
a  long  time,  and  only  one  murder  has  been  committed 
in  many  years  in  the  very  large  district  in  which  I 
practise..  Dog -poisoning  by  private  hunters  is  the 
w^orst  crime  that  is  rampant.  By-the-way,  here  comes 
a  private  hunter  now\" 

It  was  Daniel  Boone  come  back,  in  woollen  clothes 

326 


gWE  ^|f 


instead  of  buck-skin, 
and  in  a  soft  felt  hat 
instead  of  a 'coon-skin 
cap.  His  tall  lithe  fig- 
ure came  rapidly,  for 
his  strides  were  long 
and  light — a  natural 
man  who  thought 
nothincy  of  stridino^ 
like  that  from  sunrise  . 

until  long  after  dark.  -^  'i 

Over  his  shoulder  he  / 

carried   a    long    old-  |. 

fashioned    rifle,    and  .  ""^ 

slung  from  his  neck  /  '^^      v*-^'" 

by  a  strap  and  leather 
thong  were  his  pow- 
der-horn, and  his  shot-  old  mountain  type 
pouch,  (with  its  deer- 
horn  "charger"  for  measuring  the  powder,  and  its  bent- 
wire  hook    crowded  with  cotton,  "  patches "  to  wrap 
around  tlie  bullets).     He  had  moccasins  on  his  feet,  and 
his  trousers   were  tied  tight   around  the  ankles  with 
brown  twine.    He  was  called  a  "  private  hunter  "  because 
he  hunted  by  and  for  himself,  without  the  dogs  that 
are  unleashed  for  strangers  ])y  men  who  hunt  for  pay. 
Pretty  nearly  every  mountain  man  is  a  "private  hunter." 

"You  priv^ate  hunters  hate  the  dogs,  and  drop  poi- 
soned meat  about  to  kill  them."     I  so  spoke. 

''  Ya-a-s,"  said  the  private  hunter.  "  Reckon  some  of 
'em  does." 

"  Why  ?" 

"  'Cause  the  dogs  is  driving  the  game  away.  Every 
season  we  has  to  go  further  and  further  away,  and  the 
deer  gits  sca'cer  and  sca'cer." 

327 


"  I'll  tell  you  what  you  do,"  said  I,  "  poison  all  the 
dogs  you  can.  I  am  sorry  to  give  you  that  advice,  be- 
cause the  dogs  are  better  than  the  men  who  use  them— 
in  fact,  a  good  dog  is  better  than  any  man.  But  keep 
on  poisoning  them." 

The  private  hunter  Avent  off  marvelling,  for  he  knew 
that  the  jolly  doctor  by  my  side  had  the  best  dogs  in 
the  country.     So  did  I. 

"Strange  advice  to  give,"  said  the  doctor,  look- 
ing after  the  hunter,  "  for  we've  been  saying  that 
the  dog -poisoner  is  the  meanest  varmint  in  the 
woods.  I  hunt  with  dogs  myself,  but  I  reckon  you're 
right." 

"  Why  do  you  do  it  ?     You  surely  know  better." 

"  Oh,  merely  because  everybody  else  does.  It's  got 
so  that  we  cannot  get  deer  without  the  dogs ;  and  even 
then  we  have  to  go  ten  miles  farther  from  the  railroad." 

"  '  Eve  tempted  me  and  I  ate,'  "  said  I.  ''  Well,  soon 
you  will  go  without  eating — venison,  at  any  rate." 

We  rode  on,  and  presently  the  doctor  met  a  patient. 
The  meeting  was  peculiar,  since  it  took  place  when  both 
men  were  in  the  middle  of  a  rushing  stream,  whose  wa- 
ters brawled  over  their  stony  course  and  sent  up  little 
tongues  that  licked  the  knees  of  the  horses.  The  pa- 
tient wore  a  big  soft  hat  and  overcoat,  and  carried  a  pail 
in  what  should  have  been  his  free  hand. 

"Doctor,"  said  he,  "I've  got  a  misery.  They-all  say 
you  kin  cure  me.     Kin  j^ou  cure  me,  doctor?" 

"  Well,  what's  the  matter  with  you?" 

"I've  got  a  smotherin'  feelin',  doctor,"  said  the  man, 
making  up  a  face  expressive  of  great  distress.  "  'Pears 
like  water  washing  'round  in  my  stummick."  Here  he 
made  a  rotary  movement  covering  his  whole  trunk,  from 
his  chin  to  his  legs,  to  show  what  he  appeared  to  regard 
as  his  stomach.    "  Old  Charley  Jones  says  you  kin  knock 

328 


'em  out.  Kin  you  do  it,  doc  ?  They're  smotherin'  spells. 
I've  been  takin'  pills.  Dun'no'  what  they  are,  but  they're 
right  black ;  only  they  don't  go  for  the  misery.  Kin  you 
cure  me,  doc  ?" 

"  Oh,  I  think  so,"  said  the  doctor. 

"  Well,  if  you  kin  git  to  go  up  to  my  place  and  bring 
some  better  pills,  I'll  be  right  glad,  doctor." 

To  describe  the  in-door  life  of  the  people  we  will  be- 
gin with  their  picturesque  little  cabins.  They  are  nearly 
all  log  cabins,  often  of  one  room,  occasionally  of  two, 
and  never  of  three.  Each  has  a  heavy  chimney  on  one 
end,  built  of  the  stones  picked  off  the  ground  near  by. 
The  chimneys  are  all  alike — broad  at  the  base  to  allow 
for  the  fireplace,  and  either  daubed  with  mud  inside  and 
out,  or  left  in  the  rough  on  the  outside.  The  fireplace 
is  made  of  slabs  of  stone,  and  usually  two  large  stones 
project  into  the  room  to  keep  the  fire  from  the  flooring. 
The  thrifty  folk  maintain  little  door-yards,  in  which  a 
few  simple  old-fashioned  flowers  grow  without  order  or 
arrangement.  Each  place,  whether  it  be  a  mere  clear- 
ing or  a  tidy  yard,  maintains  the  man's  dogs — a  starving, 
snarling,  barking  breed  of  mongrel  hounds,  made  up  of 
ribs,  spine,  and  an  open  mouth.  Show  me  the  dogs,  and 
I  can  give  you  the  commercial  rating  of  a  people.  I 
have  never  yet  seen  dogs  so  mean  and  so  numerous  as 
those  of  the  Swampy  Cree  Indians  of  Canada,  therefore 
I  know  that  those  people  are  poorer  than  even  the  ne- 
gro farmers  along  the  Mississippi. 

But  let  us  step  into  a  few  West  Virginia  cabins.  The 
door  is  the  principal  source  of  daylight,  but  some  have 
daylight  streaming  in  through  many  uncared-for  cracks 
or  chinks  between  the  log  walls.  The  draughts  are  such 
that  one  would  think  the  bedclothes  had  to  be  nailed 
down  to  keep  them  on  the  beds  in  such  cabins.  Some 
cabins  have  regular  windows,  and  others  revel  in  a  few 

329 


panes  of  glass  let  into  one  wall.  The  lofts  over  the 
main  room  of  each  cabin  are  reached  in  different  wa^^s, 
but  I  did  not  see  one  that  had  a  pair  of  stairs.  Tliere 
is  not  room  for  stairs,  or  talent  enough  to  build  a  pair. 
Sometimes  a  ladder  outside  the  house  serves  the  pur- 
pose, and  often  as  I  reined  up  before  a  cottage  I  saw 
the  women  and  girls — all  as  shy  as  deer — scamper  out 
and  up  the  la-dder.  If  their  curiosity  was  strong  they 
came  down  again  by-and-by,  in  their  best  but  very  cheap 
gowns,  and  it  was  delightful  to  see  in  them  the  same 
femininity  that  is  observable  on  Madison  Avenue,  dis- 
played in  the  way  they  smoothed  down  their  dresses, 
disciplined  their  hair  with  their  fingers,  and  tiptoed  to 
glance  into  a  cracked  bit  of  mirror  over  one  another's 
shoulders. 

The  rule  is  to  reach  the  loft  by  a  ladder  inside,  at  the 
foot  of  the  bed,  but  there  are  cabins  so  primitive  that 
when  the  woman  takes  you  up  to  show  you  her  loom 
she  calls  to  her  eldest  girl  child,  "  Nance,  git  the  pegs 
and  set  'em  in  fer  we-all  to  go  up."  Then  the  girl  finds 
a  number  of  rough- whittled  w^ooden  pins  twice  the  size 
of  clothes-pins,  and  fits  them  into  the  line  of  holes  in 
the  logs  under  the  loft-hole.  Such  cabins  are  seldom 
found  except  in  the  true  wilderness  parts  of  West 
Virginia,  the  parts  farthest  from  the  railroads.  In 
those  parts  we  see  truly  preserved  the  mode  of  life  of 
the  picturesque  pioneer  of  1750,  whom  the  historian  de- 
scribes as  stalking  into  AVest  Virginia  with  his  gun,  his 
axe,  and  his  bride.  In  such  cabins  one  finds  beds  made 
in  the  hollow  trunks  of  trees,  which  have  pegs  set  in 
the  corners  for  legs  to  raise  them  up.  It  is  said  that 
the  under-bedding  is  often  nothing  more  than  a  mass 
of  autumn  leaves.  The  women  in  these  most  primitive 
homes  make  the  corn-pone  bread  in  dug-out  troughs 
skilfully  bitten  out  of  a  cucumber  or  poplar  log  with 

330 


the  husband's  axe,  and  I  have  been  told  that  travellers 
have  frequently  seen  the  youngest  baby  seated  in  one 
end  of  such  a  trough  while  the  mother  kneaded  the 
dough  in  the  other  end. 

To  return  to  the  average  typical  house,  the  routine  of 
life  is  pursued  in  the  one  room.  In  one  corner  is  the 
dining-table,  in  another  is  the  closet  or  bureau,  and  in 
the  others  are  the  beds.  The  dreadful  absence  of 
privacy,  or,  to  put  it  better,  the  incessant  publicity, 
which  shocks  us  so  when  we  read  of  tenement- house 


A   NATIVE   SPORTSMAX 
331 


life  in  IS^ew  York,  obtains  in  all  the  mountaineer  homes, 
where  land  is  abundant  to  a  greater  degree  than  it  is 
scarce  and  hard  to  acquire  in  the  metropolis.  In  these 
cottages  other  phases  of  life  are  as  peculiar.  A  pail,  a 
wash-bowl,  and  a  dipper  set  out-of-doors  serve  for  the  re- 
quirements of  the  toilet.  I  am  told  that  the  people  never 
wash  their  bodies,  and  I  judge  that  the  men  rarely  comb 
their  hair.  The  women  "slick"  theirs  over  with  water 
and  a  comb.  The  children  simply  "  grow  up  "  in  a  long 
juvenile  fight  against  heavy  odds  of  dirt  and  tangles. 

Over  the  yawning  fireplace  in  each  cabin  one  sees 
the  beginning  of  the  high  colonial  mantel  which  we  so 
eagerly  borrow  for  our  houses  —  a  tall  narrow  shelf 
bearing  a  line  of  bottles  and  cans.  There  or  on  a  closet 
or  bureau  one  is  certain  to  see  a  cheap  Connecticut 
clock,  and  under  the  tall  old-fashioned  principal  bed  is 
apt  to  be  seen  the  most  important  article  in  a  mountain 
household — the  cradle.  Never  thought  of  till  the  last 
minute,  and  there  being  no  money  to  buy  a  thing  that 
can  be  made  at  home,  the  cradle  is  usually  a  heavy  pine 
box  on  a  pair  of  eccentric  rockers,  so  that  it  is  apt  to 
rock  as  a  snake  travels — one  end  at  a  time.  In  very 
tidy  cabins  the  walls  are  covered  with  newspaper  to 
keep  out  the  draught ;  the  wife  has  a  little  cupboard 
for  her  cups  and  dishes,  her  pepper,  sugar,  and  salt,  and 
a  bureau  for  her  clothing.  Several  times  I  saw  some 
fresh  flowers  in  a  broken  cup  on  the  bureau,  and  a  few 
noisy  -  looking  chromos,  usually  presenting  scenes  of 
courtship,  or  pictures  of  women  in  gorgeous  attire, 
stuck  about  on  the  walls.  A  lamp  is  a  rare  thing  in  a 
mountain  cabin.  Living  there  is  simpler  than  the  rule 
of  three.  When  daylight  fails,  the  people  go  to  bed. 
If  they  sit  up,  they  do  so  in  the  light  of  the  logs  in  the 
fireplace.  If  they  need  to  find  anything  which  that 
light  does  not  disclose,  they  pick  out  a  blazing  pine  knot 

333 


from  the  fire  and  carry  it  about  as  we  would  carry  a 
lantern  or  a  lamp.  The  pine  knots  smoke  so  prodig- 
iously that  the  ceilings  of  these  cabins  are  as  black  as 
ebony :  not  a  bad  effect  from  an  artistic  point  of  view, 
for  the  dead  black  is  soft  and  rich,  and  shows  off  every- 
thing against  and  beneath  it,  particularly  the  brass- 
trimmed  gun  that  is  certain  to  hang  on  a  rafter  just  in 
front  of  the  door.     • 

The  mountain  folk  are  often  "  squatters  "  on  the  land. 
A  man  plants  two  or  three  acres — rarely  as  much  as 
ten  acres — in  corn,  and  if  he  has  two  apple-trees  that 
bear  fruit  he  is  very  lucky.  He  has  the  corn  ground 
into  meal  by  paying  a  tithe  of  it  to  the  miller,  and  takes 
it  home  sitting  on  it  on  his  horse.  His  wife  makes  it 
into  big  rocklike  "  dodgers  "  or  pone-cakes  with  salt  and 
water  and  "  no  rising."  It  gives  out  towards  February, 
as  a  rule,  and  then  come  the  annual  hard  times.  Then 
the  woman  collects  "  sang  "  and  herbs,  and  packs  up  bark 
for  those  who  ship  it  to  the  distant  tanners.  "Sang" 
is  a  staple  source  of  income  in  the  mountains.  It  is  so 
called  as  a  nickname  for  ginseng,  a  root  that  is  becom- 
ing more  and  more  rare,  and  fetches  $2  50  a  pound  now, 
whereas  it  used  to  fetch  only  fifty  cents.  It  looks  a 
little  like  ginger,  and  the  authorities  disagree  as  to 
whether  it  is  the  real  ginseng  of  China,  or,  indeed, 
whether  it  is  at  all  related  to  it.  If  it  is  not,  it  is  used 
in  China  as  a  cheap  substitute  for  that  mysterious,  most 
expensive  drug,  which  the  Chinese  believe  to  be  able  to 
prolong  life,  and  even  to  restore  virility  to  the  aged. 

These  should  be  the  most  ruggedly  healthy  of  all 
us  Americans.  Their  mountain  air,  sweetened  b}^  the 
breath  of  the  pine  forests,  is  only  excelled  in  purity  b}'- 
the  water  they  drink.  They  live  simply  and  w^ithout 
haste  or  worry,  as  we  know  it  would  be  better  for  us 
all  to  do.     They  are  not  an  immoral  or  dissipated  peo- 

333 


pie.  And  yet  they  never  know  a  day  of  health  or 
bodily  content.  Dyspepsia  is  a  raging  lion  among 
them  all.  This  is  because  of  the  bad,  the  monstrously 
bad,  cooking  their  food  gets.  That  demon  combination 
of  the  darkey  and  the  frying-pan  which  rules  the  entire 
South  produces  a  mild  and  delectable  form  of  cookery 
compared  to  the  kind  that  gnaws  the  vitals  of  the  West- 
Virginians.  Smoking-hot,  half-cooked  corn-dodger  is 
their  main  reliance,  and  it  is  always  helped  down  with 
a  great  deal  of  still  hotter  and  very  bad  coffee.  Those 
who  get  meat  at  all  get  salt  meat. 

Let  us  drop  in  upon  a  mountaineer's  home — one  of 
the  tidy  sort,  where  they  have  apple-trees,  and  the 
woman  has  made  a  few  pots  of  dark  and  lumpy  apple- 
butter.  The  logs  are  blazing  on  the  simple  black  and- 
irons, and  the  kettle  is  sputtering  as  it  swings  on  the 
pot-hook  over  the  flames.  As  a  preliminary  to  the  meal 
the  man  takes  down  the  bottle  of  "  bitters "  from  the 
mantel-piece  and  helps  himself  to  a  goodly  draught. 
He  makes  the  bitters  himself  of  new  proof  moonshine 
whiskey,  tinctured  with  cucumber  fruit,  burdock  or 
sarsaparilla  root. 

''  I  wuz  down  to  the  Springs,"  says  the  man,  "  an'  I 
heard  one  o'  them  loud-talkin'  city  women  fussin'  a 
great  deal  'bout  the  evils  of  drink.  T  wouldn't  'a'  minded 
her  ef  she'd  a-leaved  me  'lone,  but  she  kep'  talkin'  at  me. 
After  a  bit  I  just  let  her  have  what  was  bilin'  -in  me. 
'  I  allers  'low,'  says  I, '  that  whiskey  is  a  good  thing.  A 
little  whiskey  and  sarsapariP  of  a  mornin'  fer  me  and 
the  ole  woman,'  says  I, '  an'  a  little  whiskey  an'  burdock 
every  mornin'  fer  the  chillen — why,  it's  a  pervision  of 
natur'  fer  turnin'  chillen  inter  men  an'  women,  and  then 
keepin'  'em  men  an'  women  after  you've  turned  'em  that 
way.'     Gosh  !  she  didn't  like  me — that  woman  didn't." 

The  wife,  as  a  first  step,  takes  a  tin  can  and  goes  out 

334 


A    MOUNTA INKERS    CABIN 


to  milk  the  cow.  A  tomato-can  serves  for  the  milking: 
of  the  average  mountain  cow,  and  the  women  hold  the 
can  with  one  hand  and  milk  with  the  other.  The  ap- 
pearance of  the  cow  and  the  size  of  the  can  suggest  the 
idea  that  it  might  bo  better  to  milk  the  wild  deer,  if  one 
couM  catch  them.  Milking  over,  the  woman  comes  in 
to  cook  the  meal.  Any  one  can  tell  what  meal  she  is 
preparing  by  the  time  of  day ;  there  is  no  other  way, 
as  all  three  meals  of  the  day  are  precisely  alike.  She 
puts -a  handful  of  coffee-beans  into  a  skillet,  and  hokls 
them  over  the  lii'e  until  they  are  coaled  on  the  outside 
like  charcoal.  She  empties  the  skillet  into  a  coffee- 
grinder  on  the  wall,  and  holds  the  coffee-pot  under  the 

335 


grinder  while  she  grinds  the  beans.  She  puts  some  corn 
meal  into  a  box-trough  or  a  dug-out  trough,  throws  in  a 
little  water  and  salt,  and  works  the  dough  with  her  fin- 
gers until  it  feels  of  the  right  consistency,  when  she  takes 
it  out  in  handfuls  patted  into  cakes  that  are  ornamented 
with  her  finger-marks.  These  she  puts  into  a  little  iron 
oven  shoved  up  close  to  the  fire.  She  pours  cold  water 
into  the  coffee-pot,  and  presses  that  into  the  embers  and 
close  to  the  burning  logs.  Then  she  slices  some  bacon, 
and  puts  it  into  a  long-handled  frying-pan,  where  it  is 
soon  burned  without  being  cooked.  As  soon  as  the  cof- 
fee boils  the  work  is  done,  and  she  says,  "  Your  bite  is 
ready ;  sit  by."  Earthen- ware  plates,  steel  knives,  two- 
pronged  forks,  cups  and  saucers,  and  a  dish  of  apple-but- 
ter are  already  on  the  table,  with  the  milk-can,  and  an- 
other can  w^hich  holds  the  sugar.  A  storekeeper  in  that 
region  once  tried  to  introduce  forks  with  three  prongs, 
but  the  people  were  not  ready  for  such  a  revolution. 
"  We  want  a  fork-  that  '11  straddle  a  bone,"  they  said. 

I  wish  there  was  room  for  descriptions  of  their 
dances,  their  old  -  fashioned  shooting  -  matches  and  log- 
rollings, and  of  that  queerest  of  all  sports,  the  gander- 
pull,  the  fun  of  which  consists  in  hanging  a  gander  by 
the  legs  or  in  a  bag  from  a  tree  limb  or  a  gallows,  and 
then  greasing  his  neck,  and  offering  him  as  a  prize  to 
whoever  can  grip  his  head  and  pull  it  off  while  riding 
beneath  him  at  full  speed.  The  old  houses  of  the  "  qual- 
ity folk  "  and  their  formal  lives  and  warm  hospitality 
shine  like  gems  in  this  rough  setting.  The  stealthy 
activity  of  the  "  moonshiners,"  who  have  the  moral  as 
well  as  the  financial  support  of  the  people,  would  form 
a  good  part  of  still  another  chapter.  But  these  subjects 
are  not  so  new  as  the  broader  view  of  the  simple  habits 
and  surroundings  of  these  backward  people  who  live  as 
did  the  founders  of  our  republic. 

336 


IX 
OUR  NATIONAL   CAPITAL 

Washington  is  already  the  most  beautiful  city  in  our 
country.  Planned  by  man,  instead  of  being  the  out- 
growth of  circumstance,  it  greets  the  beholder  as  a 
work  of  art — a  gem  among  cities,  a  place  of  parks  and 
palaces.  It  has  all  the  dignity  that  power  and  place  re- 
flect, and  all  the  beauty  that  should  go  with  the  social 
rulership  it  is  developing. 

It  is  the  capital  of  authority  and  pleasure.  The  confi- 
dence of  the  one  and  the  restfulness  of  the  other  are  in 
its  soft  and  mainly  languorous  atmosphere.  Take  the 
Congressional  Limited  train  from  New  York  of  a  morn- 
ing, so  as  to  land  on  Pennsylvania  Avenue  in  the  after- 
noon. There  are  no  crowds.  Only  on  the  4th  of  March, 
when  200,000  sight-seers  line  one  street,  can  there  be 
croAvds  in  those  magnificent  boulevards.  But  the  avenue 
is  alive  with  people.  They  are  different  from  the  people 
of  our  other  cities.  They  are  American.  That  is  to  say, 
they  are  persons  from  all  the  States  and  Territories,  who 
are  well  enough  established  in  citizenship  to  be  of  the 
government,  of  fashionable  society,  or  of  a  population 
which  has  not  manufactures  or  commerce  to  attract  for- 
eigners or  new  citizens. 

The  people  on  the  avenue  are  well-dressed,  self 
respecting,  a  little  proud,  and  confident.  As  much  free- 
dom and  equality  as  you  will  find  reflected  in  the 
manners  of  any  multitude  on  earth  are  visible  in  that 
Y  337 


assembly.  Tbey^  walk  as  no  other  cityful  walks  in  this 
country — always  with  a  parade  step.  There  is  no  bolt- 
ing along  as  in  New  York,  or  slouching  along  as  in  the 
South.  There  are  no  strained  faces  of  men  who  pluno^e 
ahead  muttering  to  themselves  as  in  Chicago.  The  pa- 
raders  of  Washington  all  wear  their  best  clothes,  and 
move  in  stately  measure — right  foot,  1,  2,  3 ;  left  foot, 
1,  2,  3  ;  right  foot — from  the  Capitol  to  the  Treasurj^ 
and  back  again,  keeping  to  the  right  as  the  law  directs. 

Nobody  works  hard  there  except  the  present  Presi- 
dent. More  than  70,000  persons  live  on 'assured  incomes 
from  the  government,  with  ease  of  mind,  and  little  need 
to  lay  a  penny  b}^  In  turn  i7 5,000  negroes  live  upon 
them,  with  greater  ease  of  mind,  and  a  constitutional 
objection  .to  guarding  against  a  rainy  day.  That  ac- 
counts for  close  to  150,000  out  of  the  less  than  230,000 
souls  in  the  placid  city.  The  rest  are  keeping  stores, 
keeping  great  and  nearly  always  white  hotels,  keeping 
boarding  -  houses,  keeping  saloons  and  livery  -  stables. 
Many  are  maintaining  great  mansions  for  the  giving  of 
balls  and  routs  and  receptions.  Then  there  are  the 
white  servants  and  clerks  and  assistants  of  all  these. 
And  somewhere  in  the  swarm  (but  I  never  saw  a  sign 
of  them  in  all  my  intimacy  with  Washington)  are  the 
folks  who  have  made  Washington  a  manufacturing  city. 

The  Hon.  Henry  Cabot  Lodge  has  said  that  "  it  is  a 
government  city  and  nothing  else.  It  has  practically  no 
manufactures  and  no  commerce,  and  its  population  is 
made  up  of  persons  engaged  in  the  government  service 
and  of  those  who  supply  their  wants,  together  with  a 
constantly  increasing  class  of  people  who  come  to  dwell 
there  because  it  is  a  pleasant  place  to  live."  And  Mrs. 
Frances  Hodgson  Burnett, who  also  has  lived  there,  finds 
the  city  unlike  all  others  in  the  main,  and  particularly 
because  it  has  no  manufactories.     That  is  the  way  it  has 

338 


EASY-GOING   NEGROES  IN  THE  MARKET-SPACE 


struck  me,  and  yet  Special  Bulletin  158  of  the  last  cen- 
sus declares  it  to  be  the  eighteenth  city  in  the  value  of 
its  manufactures.  As  the  fact  jars  upon  the  very  spirit 
of  the  Washington  its  admirers  know,  the  reader  and  I 
may  be  pardoned  for  pausing  to  examine  this  disturbing- 
document.  The  parade  on  Pennsylvania  Avenue  will 
not  mind  halting.  It  would  do  as  much  for  a  half-dozen 
singing  negroes  with  Salvation  Army  ribbons  on  their 
hats.  It  has  all  the  time  in  the  world,  and  would  rather 
halt  than  not. 

Lo !  the  twenty- five  principal  subjects  of  labor  are 
bottling,  brick  and  tile  making,  carpentering,  carriages 
and  wagons,  candy,  engraving,  flour  and  grist  milling, 
architectural  and  ornamental  iron  -  working,  furniture, 
liquors,  lithographing,  sash,  door,  and  blind  making, 
marble  and  stone  work  and  masonry,  painting  and  pa- 
per-hanging, plastering,  paving,  plumbing  and  gas -fit- 
ting, printing  and  publishing,  saddlery  and  harness,  tin- 
ware, tobacco,  watch  and  clock  and  jewelry  repairing. 
In  other  words,  the  city  is  building  up  very  fast,  and 
the  work  is  mainly  in  support  of  that  extension  and  in 
the  maintenance  of  life  and  comfort  there. 

Pennsylvania  Avenue's  paraders  pass  the  finest  shops 
that  any  city  of  the  size  in  the  country  can  muster. 
They  are  not  all  so  large  as  they  are  elegant.  They  re- 
flect the  prosperity  and  polish  of  the  population.  The 
windows  form  a  beautiful  exposition,  one  that  interests 
and  pleases  the  visitors  from  the  biggest  cities.  The  dis- 
play is  led  by  the  jewellers,  picture,  art,  and  bric-a-brac 
dealers,  photographers,  furnishers,  and  fancy-goods  deal- 
ers. A  great  book- store,  such  as  few  of  our  cities  can 
show,  is  the  rendezvous  of  tlie  scholarly  and  literary  folk, 
who  love  Washington  best  of  all,  I  think. 

It  is  interesting  to  watch  the  people  in  the  parade  be- 
fore the  windows.     In  the  quieter  residence  avenues  of 

340 


the  northwestern  section  one  may  see  the  rich  to  better 
advantage,  in  far  separated  couples  or  in  carriages,  and 
one  may  see  the  mansions  and  gardens,  and  the  nurses, 
and  those  toddlers  who  are  the  luckiest  children  in  the 
Union  ;  for  of  all  places  Washington  is  the  most  heaven- 
like for  children.  But  in  the  mixed  throng  on  Pennsyl- 
vania Avenue  there  is  a  chance  to  see  the  people  of  a 
city  so  distinctively  American  as  to  contain  only  18,000 
foreign-born  men  and  w^omen.  The  Southerners  attract 
the  eye  first.  Their  soft  hats  and  Prince  Albert  coats 
betray  them.  The  lawyer,  the  leader  in  the  South,  has 
set  the  fashion  for  all  his  people.  So  it  comes  that  all 
Southern  men  dress  like  lawyers — in  sober  black  with 
long  coat-tails.  In  their  carriage  one  sees  a  strange 
conflict  of  pride  and  slovenliness — pride  in  the  pose  of 
the  head,  and  indolence  in  their  gait.  Their  women, 
petted  to  the  spoiling-point  when  they  are  young,  are 
the  life  of  the  avenue,  and  of  all  Washington.  To  be 
typical  they  must  be  blondes,  and  we  see  hundreds  of 
pure  blondes  in  the  parade.  And  they  must  be  merry 
and  much  in  evidence,  having  never  been  restrained. 
They  are  absolutely  queens  at  home,  and  hesitate  at 
nothing.  Literature,  art,  wit,  vocalization,  dramatic  enter- 
tainment, reform,  equestrianism,  leadership  of  fashion, 
social  activity — there  is  nothing  into  which  they  do  not 
plunge  ;  and  they  and  their  peculiarities  are  all  intensi- 
fied in  Washington.  Their  husbands  and  brothers  look 
on  in  blind  idolatry.  For  themselves  the  Southern  men 
ask  only  to  be  considered  orators ;  and  that  they  all  are. 
What  should  we  do  but  for  the  Southerners  in  Washing- 
ton— but  for  their  spirited  and  pretty  women  especially  ? 
But  there  is  no  need  to  discuss  doing  without  this  leaven 
in  the  great  lump.  And  it  is  fitting  that  they  should  be 
most  conspicuous  there,  for  Washington  is  a  Southern 
city  geographically.     True,  George  Washington  and  his 

341 


testy  engineer,  L'Enfant,  planned  to  have  it  grow  to  the 
eastward  of  the  Capitol,  on  the  high  plateau  that  was 
best  suited  for  a  city's  site.  And  they  intended  the 
White  House  to  be  a  semi-country-seat,  apart  from  the 
town.  The  Southerners  were  in  control  then,  and  where 
they  thought  the  city  would  come  they  laid  out  avenues 
for  their  beloved  States  —  Virginia  and  Georgia  and 
North  and  South  Carolina  avenues.  Alas  for  their 
hopes!  the  greedy  land -owners  and  speculators  held 
that  land  too  high,  and  we  built  the  city  so  that  to-day 
the  elegant  streets  are  the  ones  that  bear  the  names  of 
the  down-East  Yankee  States. 

Next  in  order  of  notability  in  the  parade  are  the 
Western  folk — great  in  numbers,  as  befits  the  represen- 
tatives of  nearly  two-thirds  of  the  Union.  There  is  no 
mistaking  them,  either.  Their  men  are  bearded,  hot- 
eyed,  intense  beings,  self  -  concentrated,  as  you  can  see 
in  their  every  action  and  movement  and  conversation. 
Their  women  include  many  of  the  leaders  of  the  official 
and  the  social  sets,  and  yet,  taking  them  by  and  large, 
as  the  sailor  phrase  goes,  the  Western  women  are  the 
ones  that  come  oftenest  raw  and  ill  at  ease  in  the  for- 
mal, ultra-conventional  routine  of  the  public  and  social 
life,  where  power  and  place  are  graded  in  one  set,  and 
etiquette  and  eating  rule  the  other.  The  darkies  are 
very  conspicuous  by  reason  of  their  peculiarities  and 
their  numbers.  They  divide  themselves  into  two  bodies. 
The  elegant  and  ambitious  form  one,  and  the  lazy,  hap- 
py, easy-going  work-folk  and  vagrants  form  the  other. 
But  the  darky  mob  is  most  picturesque,  with  its  red- 
waisted  nurse-girls,  its  huge  bandanna-crowned  "  mam- 
mies," its  white-bearded,  rheumatic  old  "  uncles"  in  the 
whitewashing  line,  its  ragtag  and  bobtail  loafers,  out  at 
elbow,  toggle-jointed,  loose  all  over,  and  content  when- 
ever the  sun  shines  on  them. 

342 


WfrmmiimmL 


::.».■       ;ti  i i  ,  iii 


TJIE    STEPS   OP   THE    CAPITOL 


That  which  we  have  called  the  parade  is  no  parade  at 
all.  It  is  so  spoken  of  because  of  the  slow-measured  pace 
and  holiday  air  of  the  people  on  the  main  avenue,  but  it 
is  the  whole  body  of  the  population  we  have  been  de- 
scribing, and  not  any  fraction  of  them,  except  as  we 
have  particularized.  There  is  no  promenade  in  Wash- 
ington, though  there  is  a  big  Fifth  Avenue  following 
that  wishes  for  one.  These  fashionables  and  official 
leaders  have  been  for  a  long  time  endeavoring  to  estab- 
lish a'  carriage  parade  like  Eotten  Eow,  for  they  have 
not  even  that.  Back  of  the  White  House,  where  used 
to  be  '"  the  Flats,"  is  a  vast  meadow  set  with  clumps  of 
trees  here  and  there,  and  cut  by  a  great  circular  drive. 
It  is  called  the  White  Lot,  and  lies  between  the  Monu- 
ment on  the  east  and  the  Yan  Ness  mansion  on  the  west. 
Another  ring  of  road  encircles  the  adjoining  Monument 
lot.  Mrs.  Harrison  and  Mrs.  Morton  lent  the  highest 
sanction  to  the  plan  for  holding  a  carriage  meet  there 
once  a  week,  but  it  did  not  succeed.  Again,  as  I  write 
this,  at  Easter-time  in  1894,  the  diversion  has  been  re- 
vived, and  with  more  success,,  since  the  assemblies  have 
shown  barons  and  counts  and  generals  and  millionair- 
esses rolling  in  an  endless  circle,  and  bowing  and  loung- 
ing back  upon  upholstered  seats  quite  in  the  way  that 
has  been  wished  for.  The  use  of  these  two  rather  naked 
lots  makes  the  plan  somewhat  too  arbitrary,  though  it 
may  succeed.  But  when  the  greatest  of  Washington 
improvements  is  accomplished  we  shall  see  a  grand  field 
for  such  a  weekly  meet — one  that  will  resound  with  the 
heavy  rumble  of  elegant  landaus  and  drags  on  every  fine 
day  in  the  season.  I  refer  to  that  time  when  the  entire 
south  side  of  Pennsylvania  Avenue,  from  the  Capitol  to 
the  Monument,  shall  be  made  a  park.  On  that  side  of 
the  avenue  (excepting  the  buildings  on  the  avenue  itself) 
there  is  now  a  series  of  narrow  parks  all  the  way.     It  is 

344 


broken  only  by  the  Pennsylvania  Railway  crossing;  but 
between  that  greenery  and  the  avenue  the  buildings 
form  what  is  called  "  the  Division  " — the  disreputable 
quarter  of  the  city.  It  is  an  eyesore  physically  as  well 
as  morally.  Legislation  looking  towards  the  razing  of 
these  buildings  and  the  establishment  of  a  noble  park 
where  they  stand  has  been  sought  for  in  more  than  one 
bill  that  has  failed  of  passage.  But  it  is  to  be  done  as 
surely  as  anything  mundane  can  be  promised. 

The  park  area  of  Washington  is  only  538  acres,  but  at 
every  circle  where  the  avenues  cross  one  another  is  a  lit- 
tle park.  Every  view  along  the  avenues  ends  at  a  cloud 
of  foliage,  with  an  equestrian  statue  in  the  heart  of  it. 
Every  avenue  is  doubly  fringed  Avith  trees,  and  when 
one  looks  down  on  the  city  from  an  eminence  the  w^hole 
place— excepting  the  wide  canal  cut  by  Pennsylvania 
Avenue — is  hid  under  foliage.  A  dome  or  two,  the 
Monument,  and  a  few  steeples  rise  above  the  leaves,  as 
if  to  suggest  the  presence  of  a  city  that  has  been  aban- 
doned and  swallowed  up  by  a  forest.  The  planting  of 
trees  has  been  an  official  mania,  and  the  faster  they  have 
multiplied  the  faster  the  malaria,  that  once  ruled  the 
place,  has  dwindled  out  of  consideration. 

The  basis  of  the  unique  plan  of  the  city  is  a  mathe- 
matical, checker-board  arrangement  of  squares  made  by 
streets  running  north  and  south  and  streets  running  east 
and  west.  One  set  is  numbered,  and  the  other  set  is 
known  by  letters,  so  that  a  child  can  easily  master  the 
system.  But  L'Enfant  planned  the  city  when  the  hor- 
rors of  the  French  Revolution  were  fresh  in  mind,  and 
in  order  that  it  should  never  be  barricaded,  and  that 
troops  could  be  swiftly  moved  to  any  point  of  it,  he  de- 
vised a  double  system  of  wheel  spokes  laid  across  the 
whole  city — one  set  of  spokes  having  the  Capitol  for  its 
hub,  and   the  other  set  meeting  at  the  White  House. 

345 


The  spokes  that  cut  up  the  sub-system  so  peculiarly  are 
the  great  avenues  that  bear  the  names  of  the  States. 
The  streets  are  from  SO  to  120  feet  wide,  and  the  ave- 
nues are  from  120  to  160  feet  wide.  Not  only  are  many 
of  the  streets  all  but  roofed  over  by  trees,  and  not  alone 
are  there  the  numerous  tree-filled  squares  of  which  I 
have  spoken,  but  where  the  avenues  cross  the  streets 
and  cut  off  corners  and  leave  little  wedges  of  land  cut 
off  from  the  blocks,  there  also  are  flower-beds  and  shady 
little  park  bits.  There  are  235  miles  of  thoroughfares 
in  the  city,  and  of  these  163  miles  are  paved,  90  miles 
being  asphalt.  The  city  is  kept  beautifully  clean,  and 
the  loudest  imitation  of  a  city's  roar  that  is  heard  in  the 
bowery,  begardened  residential  districts  is  the  melodi- 
ous click-a-tick  made  by  the  hoofs  of  the  horses — a  con- 
.  stant  chorus  peculiar  to  Washington. 

There  are  many  delightful  country  drives  in  the  sub- 
urbs of  Washington,  and  nearly  all  the  suburbs  are  very 
beautiful.  The  city  is  in  a  basin,  in  the  bottom  of  a 
pass,  with  a  rim  of  hills  all  around  it.  The  Virginia 
hills  are  on  one  side,  and  those  of  Maryland  are  on  the 
other.  The  prime  drive  is  along  Rock  Creek.  For  two 
or  three  miles  along  it  the  government  has  laid  out  a 
zoological  park,  Avhich  one  great  traveller  characterizes 
as  the  most  beautiful  natural  park  in  the  world.  On 
the  hottest  days  this  charming  drive  is  shaded  during 
the  afternoons.  It  has  a  continuation  called  the  Pierce's 
Mill  Road,  which  starts  from  a  picturesque  old  mill  and 
leads  to  the  Tenallytown  (pronounced  "  Tenlytown  ") 
Road  near  Red  Top,  the  President's  first  suburban 
home.  Another  drive  in  this  pretty  region  leads  behind 
Grasslands  and  ends  in  Georgetown,  now  a  part  of 
Washington,  and  one  of  the  most  substantial  and  inter- 
esting of  our  Southern  cities.  In  the  opposite  end  of 
town — in  South  Washington — is  the  St.  Elizabeth  Drive, 

346 


IN   THE    llOTUNDA    OF   THE    CAPITOL 


which  offers  at  least  one  view  as  fine  as  any  in  the  rich 
gallery  of  Washington's  natural  scenes.  The  Bladens- 
buro:  Road,  and  the  drive  to  Arlino^ton  and  on  to  Alex- 
andria,  are  excellent,  and  there  are  many  others  almost 
as  fine.  The  drive  to  Cabin  John  Bridge  is  perhaps  the 
most  famous,  though  no  longer  fashionable;  the  most 
popular  is  the  one  to  and  in  the  grounds  of  the  Soldiers' 
Home.  There  are  twenty  miles  of  carriage  roads  with- 
in these  superb  grounds,  and  adjoining  them  is  the  new 
Roman  Catholic  university,  which  occupies  one  of  the 
finest  sites  that  can  well  be  imagined  for  the  effective 
display  of  noble  buildings  and  for  the  enjoyment  of  a 
beautiful  outlook. 

There  is  not  space  to  describe  the  grand  houses  of 
what  is  already  called  "  old"  Washington,  or  the  palaces 
of  those  who  seek  to  make  the  city  a  social  capital. 
Perhaps  it  would  be  fairer  to  say,  "  the  men  and  women 
who  are  seeking  Washington  and  its  society  because  it 
is  the  social  capital."  New  Washington  must  be  seen 
to  be  appreciated.  Its  houses  are  of  as  many  designs 
as  their  owners  have  minds  and  tastes.  They  stand  free 
and  clear  amid  gardens.  They  are  big  and  tall  and 
roomy.  Some  are  grand  and  man}^  are  pretty,  and  all 
are  comfortable. 

"  Society  in  Washington,"  said  one  of  the  men  who 
lead  it,  "is  the  only  cosmopolitan  society  in  America. 
That  in  New  York  is  very  narrow  and  provincial,  con- 
trolled by  a  limited  set  of  people  of  one  origin.  Here 
in  Washington  it  is  made  up  of  high-bred  people  from 
all  over  Christendom,  and  it  entertains  all  the  people  of 
distinction  who  come  to  this  country,  as  well  as  all  who 
are  of  the  country  and  come  to  Washington." 

"  It  is  not  pretentious,"  he  said  at  another  time.  "  In 
spite  of  the  men  of  mere  wealth  who  have  come  into  it, 
one  may  entertain  here  with  tea  and  ices  at  times  when 

348 


an  elaborate  dinner  costing  thousands  would  be  the 
thing  in  New  York." 

The  different  social  sets  and  their  values  and  relations 
are  as  hard  for  a  stranger  to  understand  as  the  horns 
that  are  treated  of  in  Revelation.  The  problem  may  be 
simplified  by  dividing  society  into  two  sets — the  official 
and  the  fashionable.  The  official  society  appeals  tre- 
mendously to  persons  from  small  towns.  The  wife  who 
comes  to  Washington  with  the  member  from  Podunk, 
or  with  the  Senator  s  private  secretary  from  Lonely 
City,  gets  her  first  shock  when,  at  the  hotel  where  she 
is  stopping,  she  attends  a  reception  by  a  woman  from 
her  own  section,  and  sees  other  women  in  low-necked 
dresses  for  the  first  time.  She  has  always  associated 
decollete  and  disrepute  together.  Sometimes  she  with- 
draws into  her  little  shell,  and  has  a  dreary  stay  in 
Washington  with  a  few  chosen  spirits  of  like  narrow- 
ness. Sometimes  she  broadens  and  meets  the  conditions 
around  her.  In  numberless  instances  the  husband 
broadens  and  leaves  the  wife  at  home;  in  many  the 
wife  takes  up  society  and  the  husband  takes  to  his 
shell. 

The  beginnings  of  official  experience  are  peculiar. 
First  the  new-comers  meet  the  persons  from  their  local- 
ity. Then  they  make  the  acquaintance  of  the  wives  of 
Congressmen — other  Congressmen  if  they  are  Congres- 
sional. They  attend  a  reception  at  the  National  Hotel, 
perhaps,  and  meet  the  other  Congressional  new-comers, 
many  clerks  and  their  wives,  Mrs.  and  Mrs.  Third  As- 
sistant Comptroller  So-and-so,  Fish-Commissioner  Thus, 
and  Superintendent  This.  Then  is  the  time  the  unso- 
phisticated man  and  woman  first  see  the  decollete  di^esses 
and  have  their  future  determined.  They  will  have 
established  themselves  in  a  hotel,  and  will  breakfast, 
sup,  and  dine  at  a  table  set  apart  for  the  men  and 

349 


women  of  the  Congress  delegation  of  the  State  from 
which  they  hail.  There  they  will  anchor  if  they  are  of 
the  kind  that  sing  "provincial  I  was  born  and  provin- 
cial I  will  die."  But  very  many  develop  and  widen, 
and  quickly  choose  their  own  friends  and  resorts  from 
among  all  the  people  and  houses  of  Washington.  They 
are  aided  to  choose  from  a  larger  or  a  lesser  field  by 
their  own  merits,  their  personalities  and  brains,  and 
ability  to  take  part  and  place,  high  or  low,  as  the  case 
may  be. 

The  Congressional  people  and  their  alphabetical 
friends  at  the  hotel  table,  Avhere  all  meet  at  first  —  I 
call  them  alphabetical  because  they  are  designated  by 
counties  and  districts  of  one  State — these  people  meet 
fragments  of  all  circles  at  the  President's  receptions 
and  the  receptions  of  members  of  the  cabinet,  and  at 
the  houses  of  great  politicians  who  have  gone  heavily 
into  society.  They  go  with  crude  ideas  and  crude  sen- 
sations at  first.  They  especially  like  to  meet  the  mem- 
bers of  the  diplomatic  corps.  They  are  curious  about 
the  diplomats,  and  enjoy  seeing  them,  as  the  people  of 
the  courts  of  Europe  like  to  see  the  Shah  and  his  ret- 
inue. Barons  and  Senors,  Dons  and  Counts,  are  novel- 
ties to  them.  They  have  all  read  about  them  in  novels, 
and  they  consider  them  romantic.  They  like  to  write 
home  that  their  wives  and  daughters  have  danced  with 
these  novelties.  But  at  the  same  time — and  in  the  course 
of  business  in  Congress — they  are  getting  their  chances 
for  entree  into  whatever  circles  they  admire  and  are 
fitted  for. 

Curiously  enough,  there  is  another  body  of  persons 
that  seek  the  diplomatic  corps,  and  not  for  novelty,  but 
to  feel  flattered  by  being  known  to  its  members.  These 
are  purely  society  people,  and  are  mainly  from  the 
North  and  East.     They  always  come  with  an  exagger- 

350 


IN   THE   WHISPEKING   GALLERY   OF   THE   CAPITOL 


ated  estimate  of  the  diplomatic  corps,  and  with  a  de- 
termination to  court  its  members.  The  truth  is  that 
there  are  nice  diplomats,  as  there  are  nice  missionaries 
or  nice  Congressmen,  but  many  who  do  not  know  the 
facts  will  be  astonished  to  hear  that  we  send  a  better 
grade  of  men  abroad  than  the  foreign  rulers  send  to  us. 
Often  our  ministers  stand  head  and  shoulders  above 
theirs  when  measured  from  the  standpoints  of  manhood, 
ability,  presentableness,  and  sometimes  family  distinc- 
tion. The  men  who  come  to  us  may  excel  in  polish, 
but  often  that  is  nearly  all  they  have  to  recommend 
them.  An  exception  must  be  made  in  the  case  of  the 
British  ministers,  who,  since  the  Sack ville -West  episode, 
have  been  and  will  be  men  of  ability.  The  actual  fact  in 
Washington  is  that  the  senatorial  circle  views  the  diplo- 
matic circle  from  a  slight  eminence,  good-humoredly, 
with  indifference.  And  the  senatorial  circle  is  not  by 
itself  a  high  circle  outside  of  official  society.  That  is 
where  the  author  of  a  recent  novel  that  has  had  great 
vogue  shows  a  lack  of  knowledge  of  the  real  springs  of 
Washington  life  as  seen  from  the  inside.  He  makes 
diplomatic  recognition  the  "open  sesame"  to  the  best 
societ}^  The  truth  is  that  there  may  be,  once  in  a  while, 
a  society  woman  from  another  city  who  aspires  to  enter 
Washington  society  from  abroad  rather  than  by  the 
home  doorway,  but  such  a  person  is  apt  to  have  doubts 
about  her  own  social  position. 

The  set  that  counts  in  Washington — the  cream — is 
made  up  of  the  few  who  combine  high  official  position 
with  high  social  standing.  They  are  so  broad  as  to 
have  established  the  only  elegant  society  in  this  country 
to  which  a  man  of  brains,  without  wealth,  can  rise.  I 
am  in  doubt  whether  mere  wealth  gives  entree  to  it ;  in 
doubt  because  good  authorities  deny  that  it  is  so,  while 
others  point  to  men  and  w^omen  within  the  circle  who 

352 


THE  WHITE   HOUSE   ENTRANCE 


seem  to  them  to  have  nothing  but  millions.  Apart 
from  wealth,  it  is  certain  that  no  public  position  carries 
the  key  with  it.  A  cabinet  position  does  not.  It  hap- 
pens that  there  are  and  have  been  cabinet  members  who 
attend  only  purely  official  and  formal  receptions  and 
levees.  Some  cabinet  men  have  asked  no  more  than  to 
"  keep  solid"  with  the  delegations  from  their  own  States. 
In  the  round  of  a  winter's  festivities  in  this  leading 
z  353 


social  circle  you  see  how  cosmopolitan  it  is ;  you  get 
bits  of  experience  such  as  the  cream  of  London  society 
offers,  and  that  of  I^ew  York  never  does.  You  pay 
homage  to  explorers,  army  and  navy  heroes,  historians, 
artists,  scientists,  and  the  lights  that  illumine  the  whole 
world  of  genius.  In  this  society  are  people  of  Murray 
Hill  and  Beacon  Street  who  never  could  force  the 
geniuses  of  politics  and  statecraft  and  art  and  letters  on 
their  little  circles  at  home,  and  yet  they  do  so  in  Wash- 
ington, and  therefore  enjoy  the  capital  best. 

This  set  has  outgrown  the  stage  at  which  it  may 
have  felt  that  a  titled  foreigner  conferred  distinction 
upon  it.  If  James  Bryce  and  the  Duke  of  Westminster 
came  simultaneously  to  Washington,  the  Duke  would 
receive  the  attention  his  letters  called  for,  but  the  his- 
torian would  be  sought  and  honored  for  his  worth. 
Such,  at  least,  is  what  the  best-known  men  in  that  circle 
assure  me.  Any  person  of  note  who  comes  to  America 
must  bring  letters  to  some  one  in  this  circle  in  order 
to  enter  it — another  distinct  stride  in  advance  of  some 
circles  elsewhere  that  boast  of  exclusiveness. 

This  best  Washington  circle  makes  much  of  certain 
public  men  who  are  not  in  a  position  to  entertain. 
There  is  a  quid  pro  quo  that  it  asks  of  all  who  enjoy 
its  houses  and  dinners  and  assemblies,  and  that  is  that 
they  must  be  entertaining;  they  must  contribute  their 
share  towards  the  general  enjoyment  wherever  they  go. 
I  am  assured  that  the  standard  of  morality  is  what  one 
would  expect  in  a  circle  made  up  of  men  and  women 
from  all  parts  of  our  young  country.  The  case  of  a 
talented  foreigner  who  brought  a  mistress  to  Washing- 
ton with  him  is  still  remembered.  As  he  lived  in  Wash- 
ington he  could  have  lived  in  almost  any  Old  AYorld 
capital,  but  in  Washington  he  was  invited  nowhere.  He 
had  to  go  home  to  be  happy. 

354 


IN  THE  TOP  OF  THE   WASHINGTON  MONUMENT 


Despite  what  I  have  written  of  exclusive  society, 
democracy  is  more  evident  at  the  seat  of  our  govern- 
ment than  anywhere  else  in  America.  Washington  is 
a  great  leveller.  Had  the  capital  been  set  up  m  New 
York,  or  any  great  commercial  or  manufacturing  city, 
the  result  would  surely  have  been  very  different.  The 
people  or  the  officials  would  have  drawn  a  line  between 
the  two  classes.  But  as  it  is,  Washington  is  nothing 
else  than  official,  and  the  men  who  hold  place  become 
ordinary  by  mere  force  of  numbers.  Heart  pangs 
come  to  new  Congressmen,  who  find  themselves  count- 
ing for  no  more  than  ordinar}^  citizens  outside  their 
council -chamber.  Indeed,  only  the  members  of  the 
Upper  House  have  been  able,  by  reason  of  their  few- 
ness and  long  tenure  of  office,  to  create  an  artificial  dig- 
nity for  themselves  wholly  within  one  wing  of  the 
Capitol.     In  the  hotel  lobbies  and  in  the  streets  no  one 

355 


points  out  a  Senator  as  a  Senator,  though  especial  gifts 
and  strong  personality,  or  great  wealth  or  eccentricity, 
may  cause  a  few  to  be  whispered  about  as  they  pass  in 
the  crowds. 

And  how  can  this  help  but  be  the  case  where  even 
the  President  walks  about  the  streets  on  fine  afternoons, 
is  met  in  the  shops,  goes  on  foot  to  and  from  church, 
and  rides  about  the  country  roads  in  a  carriage  not  dif- 
ferent from  those  of  his  genteel  neighbors?  President 
Arthur's  fine  figure  was  a  common  feature  of  out-of- 
door  life  in  Washington.  General  Garfield  had  been 
long  known,  by  sight,  to  all  Washington  before  he  was 
President.  Neither  Grant  nor  Hayes  nor  Harrison 
ever  secluded  himself ;  and  if  President  Cleveland  does 
so  it  is  because  he  is  a  poor  pedestrian  and  an  ill- 
advised  worker,  attending  to  even  the  routine  duties 
which  other  Presidents  have  shouldered  upon  suboi'di- 
nates.  The  custom  of  tri- weekly  receptions  to  the  pub- 
he  which  Mr.  Cleveland  made  a  feature  of  Washington 
life  during  his  first  term,  which  Benjamin  Harrison 
kept  up,  and  which  many  Presidents  have  observed, 
had  great  levelling  effect.  The  Member  from  Podunk 
could  not  give  himself  airs  if  his  humblest  constituent 
had  shaken  hands  with  the  Executive  that  day,  and 
meant  to  do  so  again  day  after  to-morrow.  The  custom 
must  have  made  many  a  foreigner  marvel.  It  was 
ultra-American — the  best  thing  for  the  people,  and  the 
most  disagreeable  for  their  chief  servant  of  any  phase 
of  the  relationship  of  the  office-holder  to  the  masses  in 
our  government.  The  man  whose  personality  made  him 
seem  to  fill  the  place  more  fully  and  majestically — to 
the  eye,  at  any  rate — than  any  man  since  Washington, 
used  to  hold  such  receptions  wherever  he  went,  and  any 
man  could  shake  his  hand.  I  have  seen  him  receive 
the  people  of   a  pastoral   region   in   the   parlor   of   a 

356 


country  hotel,  and  put  new  pride  into  the  Americanism 
of  thousands. 

It  must  be  a  singular  strain  upon  a  man  to  be  Presi- 
dent. Three  of  our  Presidents  have  told  me  that  the 
pains  and  penalties  of  that  greatness  were  all  but  be- 
yond endurance,  and  that  they  looked  forward  with 
grand  impatience  to  a  release  from  the  cares  of  govern- 
ment. "  I  am  hunted  like  a  jack-rabbit,"  is  the  way 
one  put  it.  "  Everywhere  I  put  up  my  head  the  office- 
seekers  jump  on  me."  Yet  two  of  these  felt  a  melan- 
choly they  could  not  hide  when  they  left  the  White 
House,  and  all  three  worked  hard  to  be  re-elected. 

Washington  is  the  capital  of  good  dining.  It  is  true, 
as  one  leading  entertainer  said  to  me,  that  there  is  no 
really  first-class  restaurant  there,  but  the  truth  of  the 
assertion  depends  upon  the  standard  one  sets  and  the 
point  from  which  one  views  the  question.  Washington 
society  is  the  most  cosmopolitan  in  this  countr}^  but  its 
dishes,  like  the  body  of  its  population,  are  American. 
It  is  fitting  that  this  should  be  so.  Xot  long  ago  one 
of  our  Presidents  sent  for  Mr.  John  F.  Chamberlin,  the 
heartiest  celebrator  of  Americanism  in  dining  in  this 
country.  "  I  am  in  trouble,"  said  he.  "  I  have  no  cook 
and  no  wines,  but  I  am  to  give  a  dinner  to  a  royal  per- 
sonage. Will  you  attend  to  it  for  me?  There  are  to 
be  thirty-three  at  table."  Mr.  Chamberlin  "  saved  the 
nation."  He  sent  to  the  White  House  his  best  cook 
and  his  best  waiters,  and  they  prepared  and  served  a 
dinner  in  Avhich  a  few  edible  Americanisms  so  delight- 
ed royalty  that  it  sent  its  plate  away  for  second  serv- 
ings of  more  than  one  course.  It  was  a  peculiar  dinner. 
It  began  with  oysters  roasted  in  their  shells.  Then 
came  celery,  for  which  AVashington  is  celebrated  and 
envied,  and  canvas-back  ducks  cut  in  two  Avith  a  cleaver, 
and  cooked  so  that  one  half  was  on  the  fire  when  the 

357 


other  was  being  eaten.  Cakes  of  hominy  came  with  it, 
of  course.  A  rich  and  heavy  dessert  was  followed  by 
coffee  and  cheese  and  biscuit  toasted.  Champagne  was 
served  with  the  oysters,  and  burgundy  with  the  duck. 

The  test  of  the  quality  of  that  dinner  would  be  to 
ask  any  American  now  in  Paris  how  he  would  like  to 
sit  down  to  just  such  another  to-night.  It  is  safe  to  say 
that  the  White  House  guests  would  rather  have  had 
that  dinner  than  such  a  one  as  they  would  be  enter- 
tained with  to-day — since  there  is  now  a  French  cook, 
at  $150  a  month,  installed  in  the  kitchen  of  that  grand 
and  beautiful  old  mansion. 

Understanding,  then,  that  the  food,  the  cooks,  and 
the  methods  of  cooking  are  all  American,  and  that  oys- 
ters, game-birds,  terrapin,  and  fish  are  the  monarchs  of 
all  the  onenus  that  are  fit  to  discuss,  the  lover  of  good 
eating  can  decide  for  himself  whether  the  facts  are  to 
his  taste  or  not.  In  the  mean  time  I  will  reproduce 
what  a  great  gourmet  told  me  of  the  pieces  de  resist- 
ance of  the  Washington  markets.  First  came  the  Lynn- 
haven  Bay  oysters,  whose  supremacy  was  never  dis- 
puted until  fraud  entered  their  field  and  began  to  call 
any  and  every  cheaper  sort  of  oyster  by  that  name. 
The  real  ones  still  are  plenty  in  Washington,  and  when 
broiled  by  a  darky  cook,  or  served  with  curry  dressing 
b}^  a  white  cook,  are  the  most  delicious  bivalves  in  the 
world. 

From  the  near-by  waters  of  the  Potomac  and  Chesa- 
peake Bay  come  the  rock-fish,  which  tastes  like  bass,  but 
is  so  big  as  to  weigh  between  six  and  twenty  pounds ; 
the  hog-fish,  \vhich  is  a  most  delicious  pan-fish ;  the  Po- 
tomac perch,  so  extraordinarily  sweet  and  melting  that 
Koscoe  Conkling  ate  one  every  morning  in  its  season  ev- 
ery year ;  the  black  bass  of  the  Potomac  ;  and  the  Chesa- 
peake hard  crabs,  which  come  nearly  the  whole  year 

358 


EXCITING   SCENE  IN  THE  HOUSE  OF  REPRESENTATIVES 


SHR" 


around,  and  in  Washington  are  eaten  deviled  after  the 
most  elaborate  preparation.  First  the  meat  is  scooped 
out  until  the  shell  is  as  clean  as  a  whistle.  Then  the 
meat  is  chopped — but  not  as  fine  as  French  cooks  cho]) 
it — and  deviled,  and  put  in  the  shells  and  cooked.  From 
the  same  waters  and  the  near-by  land  come  many  birds. 
In  Washington  the  men  who  believe  with  Carlyle  that 
this  is  "  the  age  of  the  belly,"  and  is  worth  enduring  on 
that  account,  all  insist  that  the  game-birds  from  the 
Chesapeake,  like  the  oysters  and  fisli  from  there,  are  not 
approached  in  excellence  by  the  same  creatures  caught 
or  shot  anywhere  else  in  America.  The  best  canvas- 
back  ducks,  for  instance,  are  the  Chesapeake  birds,  and 
if  they  are  beyond  the  diner's  purse,  he  will  find  that 
the  Chesapeake  yields  mallard,  teal,  black-head,  butter- 
ball,  and  red-head  ducks,  which  are  superior  to  any  of 
their  more  northerly  or  southerly  congeners.  So  true 
is  this,  at  least  of  the  famous  canvas-backs  of  the  Chesa- 
peake, that  during  the  past  two  years  ducks  have  been 
sent  up  from  the  North  Carolina  marshes  to  dealers  on 
the  Chesapeake  shores  to  be  shipped  as  Chesapeake 
birds.  All  the  game-ducks  are  abundant  in  Washing- 
ton at  the  very  season  when  their  presence  is  most  op- 
portune. 

Quail,  woodcock,  and  partridges  from  Maryland  are 
also  cheap  and  plenty  there ;  and  far  from  last  or  least 
is  the  abundant  sora,  delicious  consort  of  the  hog-fish  in 
what  the  AVashingtonians  love  and  call  their  "  hog-fish 
and  sora  dinners."  These  repasts  are  a  feature  in  the 
life  of  those  who  live  to  eat.  We  have  said  that  the 
hog-fish  is  the  greatest  delicacy  that  the  frying-pan  pro- 
duces. There  are  very  few  frying-pan  delicacies,  and 
most  of  those  are  deadly,  but  not  so  the  hog-fish.  It  is 
caught  in  northern  Yirginia,  in  the  Fortress  Monroe 
neighborhood,  in  autumn,  and  the  supply  lasts  a  little 

360 


longer  than  the  birds  abound.  For  about  a  month  the 
lish  and  bird  flock  together — in  the  markets.  The  sora- 
birds  are  a  species  of  rail,  a  third  larger  than  the  reed- 
bird.  They  come  in  September,  and  they  stay  a  month 
or  two.  They  are  so  plentiful  in  Virginia  that  men  have 
killed  them  with  clubs. 

A  Chesapeake  terrapin  is  worth  four  times  what  any 
other  terrapin  fetches  in  the  market.  It  is  Chesapeake 
terrapin  that  the  Washingtonians  think  they  eat ;  but, 
alas !  very  few  of  them,  or  of  us,  have  tasted  terrapin  of 
late.  It  is  so  expensive,  so  rare,  that  real  diamond-back 
fetches  $80  the  dozen,  and  only  the  rich  and  the  people 
of  Baltimore  really  get  it.  Chicken,  veal,  and  mud- 
turtle  are  made  to  do  duty  for  terrapin  now.  It  is  easy 
to  deceive  the  diner  with  these  substitutes,  because  the 
principal  taste  of  the  dish,  as  it  is  generally  cooked,  is 
that  of  the  seasoning  of  the  sauce.  True  Baltimoreans 
alone  are  not  to  be  deceived  in  terrapin,  because  they 
serve  the  meat  in  thick  slices  on  top  of  the  sauce,  and 
have  very  little  sauce,  and  none  of  the  sherry  in  it  which 
would  serve  to  hide  counterfeit  terrapin  in  other  cities. 

The  subject  of  good  living  recalls  the  fact  that  at 
*  Hancock's,  one  of  the  oldest  resorts,  where  old  -  time 
dishes  are  prepared  by  an  old-time  Virginia  cook,  the 
habitues  like  to  tell  of  the  days  when  men  of  great 
renown  made  it  a  practice  to  stop  there  every  dav  for  a 
cobbler,  a  julep,  or  a  toddy.  That,  in  turn,  suggests 
the  good  news  that  drinking  is  no  longer  done  in  public 
by  men  of  national  fame,  and  heavy  drinking  has  no 
longer  the  privilege  to  mention  many  honored  names 
among  its  votaries. 

It  is  astonishing  how  many  persons  at  Washington 
are  in  the  city  and  not  of  it,  how  many  live  there  and 
enjoy  life  there  without  any  certainty  as  to  the  tenure 
of  their  stay.     Of  all  the  vast  body  of  the  government's 

361 


employes  only  those  who  come  under  tlie  civil  service 
rules  regard  the  city  as  their  permanent  abiding-place. 
The  rest  are  "  long-termers  "  or  "  short-termers  " — like 
those  who  go  to  prison — if  so  odious  an  illustration  is 
permissible  in  explaining  so  delightful  a  condition.  I 
have  no  doubt  at  all  that  this  fact  adds  to  the  gayety 
of  the  place,  enhances  the  holiday,  pleasure-loving  spirit 
of  the  populace,  and  is  a  great  factor  in  the  making  of 
the  delights  of  the  beautiful  city.  To  the  rest  of  those 
who  have  merely  camped  there  must  be  added  the  news- 
paper correspondents  —  a  large  and  important  body. 
The  leading  correspondents,  heads  of  the  bureaus  of  the 
great  newspapers,  are  the  flower  of  the  flock  of  journal- 
ism. They  are  picked  and  trusted  men.  Their  w^ork 
is  seldom  and  little  edited.  They  are  the  guardians  of 
the  policies  of  their  papers,  like  the  editors  themselves. 
Indeed,  in  the  present  deluge  of  news  that  has  followed 
the  abundance  and  cheapness  of  the  facilities  for  dis- 
tributing it,  these  gentlemen  have  become  new^s-brokers 
and  editors  as  w^ell  as  correspondents.  A  swarm  of  un- 
placed men  and  w^omen  search  the  capital  for  items, 
and  bring  them  to  the  bureaus.  The  special  correspond- 
ents now  command  corps  of  reporters  as  well,  and  buy 
and  order  the  news  of  fashion,  dress,  society,  the  courts, 
hotel  arrivals,  and  all  the  rest.  Interviews,  descriptive 
articles,  and  even  editorials  are  now  arranged  for  by 
some  of  them.  The  rest  follows — that  they  are  talented, 
w^ell  known,  prosperous,  and  influential.  In  Washing- 
ton no  bar  is  set  against  such  inclinations  of  any  of 
them  as  are  reasonable  in  men  of  their  means  and 
duties.  (I  speak  solely  of  the  leaders,  the  heads  of  bu- 
reaus.) To  such  extent  as  their  personalities,  methods, 
and  journals  are  respected  they  have  access  to  the 
better  clubs,  their  wives  entertain,  and  their  homes  are 
the  resorts  of  diplomats  and  statesmen. 


Their  contribution  to  the  joyous  life  of  AVashington 
takes  the  form  of  the  Gridiron  Club,  now  the  leading 
organization  of  its  peculiar  kind  in  this  country.  A 
party  of  Washington  correspondents  were  dining  at 
Chamberlin's  with  Judge  Crowell  on  January  11,  1885, 
when  it  was  suggested  that  such  a  dining -club  be 
formed.  On  January  24,  1885,  at  a  meeting  at  Welck- 
er's,  a  constitution  and  by-laws  were  submitted  for  a 
club  that  was  then  spoken  of  as  the  "  Terrapin  Club." 
A  week  later  it  was  formally  named  the  Gridiron  Club. 
The  first  president  was  Ben :  Perley  Poore,  and  from 
the  first  dinner  it  grew  steadily  in  fame  and  impor- 
tance. 

The  club  was  at  first  planned  upon  the  lines  of  the 
well-known  Clover  Club  of  Philadelphia,  but  has  since 
developed  characteristics  of  its  own.  At  the  Gridiron 
dinners  the  absurd  and  indefensible  habit  of  interrupt- 
ing and  "guying"  those  who  speak  to  the  gatherings 
is  not  made  an  annoying  characteristic.  If  a  speaker 
at  a  Gridiron  dinner  is  a  bore  or  becomes  offensive,  he 
receives  such  sharp  interruption  that  he  is  glad  to  sit 
down  as  quickly  as  he  can.  Then,  again,  a  rigid  rule 
of  the  Gridiron  Club  is  that  nothing  shall  be  spoken 
'  that  should  not  be  said  in  the  presence  of  women.  No 
matter  what  their  importance,  or  what  the  "  news  qual- 
ity "  of  such  addresses  may  be,  it  is  a  rule  that  what  is 
said  at  these  dinners  is  always  spoken  "under  the  rose." 
So  thoroughly  is  this  understood  that  at  the  annual  din- 
ner of  1892  ex-President  Harrison  spoke  with  as  much  ease 
as  he  would  have  talked  in  his  own  parlor,  and  with  a 
frankness  that  rendered  his  speech  an  important  contri- 
bution to  the  history  of  the  day.  Kearly  every  member 
of  his  cabinet  sat  at  the  table  on  that  occasion.  The 
Gridiron  Club  is  one  of  the  most  interesting  develop- 
ments of  the  mania  for  after-dinner  orator}^  which  is 

364 


epidemic  in  our  country,  and  which  is  by  no  means 
always  attended  by  such  admirable,  useful,  or  dignified 
consequences  as  at  the  symposiums  of  this  famous 
club. 

Of  clubs  that  are  notable,  but  not  peculiar,  the  ex- 
clusive Metropolitan  Club  is  at  ^he  head.  The  Cosmos 
and  the  University  clubs  are  not  far  behind  it.  There 
are  several  others. 

"Washington  is  the  Afro- American's  earthly  paradise, 
and  there  are  75,000  there  to  enjoy  it.  It  is  the  only 
place  in  this  country  (except,  possibly,  in  so .  far  as  a 
small  circle  in  New  Orleans  is  concerned)  where  these 
people  have  a  genteel  society  of  their  own,  and  it  is  the 
place  where  they  have  the  best  standing  and  treatment. 
To  explain  the  position  of  the  negro,  ^N^orth  and  South, 
let  me  tell  a  true  story.  In  one  of  the  great  Southern 
States  there  is  a  fine  cotton  plantation  that  descended 
to  an  eccentric  white  man.  He  never  married,  but  his 
negro  house-keeper  bore  him  two  sons.  The  man  was 
fond  of  them.  They  were  as  white  to  the  eye  as  he 
was.  He  treated  them  as  any  well-to-do  and  kindl}^ 
father  would  treat  his  boys.  He  sent  them  to  a  l^ew 
England  college,  and  before  and  after  that  they  bene- 
fited by  his  guidance,  his  learning,  and  his  fine  library 
and  genteel  surroundings.  In  time  he  died,  and  left 
them  the  plantation  and  manor-house  and  what  money 
he  had.  In  worldly  means  they  were  the  equals  of  any 
planters  in  that  region.  In  polish  and  breeding  and 
knowledge  they  were  the  superiors  of  very  many. 

Their  credit  at  the. banks  of  the  nearest  city  was  first- 
class,  and  they  came  to  be  known  as  scrupulously  hon- 
est. When  they  went  to  town  the  bankers  enjoyed  con- 
versing with  them.  They  often  talked  of  their  hard 
lot,  their  pariahlike  existence — of  the  curse  that  came 
with  their  color.      The  best  men  of  the  country-side 

365 


bowed  to  them,  even  conversed  with  them,  in  passing 
on  the  roads,  but  no  white  man  ever  visited  their  beauti- 
ful, well-appointed  home.  They  knew  not  a  single  white 
woman  even  to  bow  to.  One  of  the  brothers,  perhaps 
a  little  finer  in  mettle  than  the  other,  rebelled  against 
the  unnatural,  false,  and  heartless  attitude  of  his  neigh- 
bors, and  sold  out  his  interest  in  the  plantation  to  his 
brother.  He  went  West  with  his  money  to  one  of  the 
new  cities  of  the  Pacific  coast.  He  invested  shrewdly, 
principally  in  street-car  stocks.  He  made  his  dollars 
multiply.  Perhaps  there  is  a  dark  line  down  the  spine 
of  a  man  who  has  African  blood  in  him,  as  some  say ; 
perhaps  there  is  an  uncommon  whiteness  in  the  eyes  of 
such  a  man,  a  telltale  pinkness  of  the  finger-nails.  But 
no  one  suspected  that  this  handsome  capitalist  was  a 
mulatto.  He  was  tall,  with  Caucasian  features  and  long 
black  hair,  and  he  carried  himself  proudly.  He  had  his 
desire.  He  lived  on  terms  of  more  than  equality — great 
popularity,  in  fact — with  the  white  men  and  women  of 
his  city. 

The  curse  took  the  shape  of  Cupid.  He  fell  in  lov^e 
with  a  charming  woman,  and  she  told  him  she  returned 
his  fond  regard.  A  happy  courtship  was  carried  on, 
and  at  the  end  he,  being  honest,  told  her  that  African 
blood  ran  in  his  veins.  She  said  he  had  insulted  her, 
and  she  ordered  him  out  of  her  house.  He  went,  and 
blew  his  brains  out. 

All  this  has  happened  in  our  present  day.  The  broth- 
er on  the  plantation  said  a  few  months  ago  that  he  w^as 
likely  at  any  moment  to  follow  the  example  of  the 
suicide.  In  all  his  forty  years  of  life  only  one  white 
man  had  ever  visited  him.  That  was  the  Episcopal 
bishop  of  the  diocese,  who  not  only  called  upon  but 
dined  with  him — a  very  brave  thing  for  even  a  bishop 
to  do  in  the  South.     He  died  soon  afterwards— last  win- 


PRESS  GALLERY  IN  THE  SENATE 


ter — and  passed  to  God's  judgment  before  many  white 
men  knew  of  his  daring.  The  lonely  brother  is  a  mar- 
ried man.  Years  ago  he  went  into  the  Southwest  and 
married  a  woman  of  tainted  blood,  as  white  as  himself. 
They  have  children  who  are  as  white  as  themselves. 
The  blacks  of  the  neighborhood  hate  and  revile  the  en- 
tire family,  and  will  have  nothing  to  do  with  them. 
There  is  only  one  place  in  this  country  where  they  may 
hold  up  their  heads  and  move  in  a  society  fitted  for 
persons  of  their  pride  and  intelligence — that  is  Wash- 
ington.     It  would  be  an  Afro-American  society  which 

367 


they  would  enter,  but  one  modelled  closely  upon  the 
lines  of  white  society,  and  living  in  amity  with  that 
body. 

Of  the  75,000  negroes  in  Washington,  3000  are  in 
government  employ.  Negroes  own  eight  millions  of 
dollars'  worth  of  real  estate  in  the  District  of  Columbia. 
They  have  their  editors,  teachers,  professors,  doctors, 
dentists,  druggists,  dancing -masters,  their  clubs,  their 
saloons,  their  newspapers,  churches,  schools,  and  halls. 
AVhites  and  blacks  work  together  as  mechanics  and 
laborers,  and  the  typographical  union  contains  black 
printers,  just  as  the  barbers'  union  includes  white  bar- 
bers. Alas!  the  mortality  among  the  blacks  is  very 
much  larger  than  among  the  whites,  and  so  is  the 
percentage  of  illegitimacy — but  this  latter  evil  is  the 
product  of  the  swarm  of  ignorant  "trash"  that  hive 
around  the  city  and  touch  the  regenerated  colored  folk 
at  no  point  except  as  servants  and  laborers. 

To  estimate  the  apparent  progress  of  the  negroes  in 
Washington,  one  must  go  to  their  fashionable  churches. 
They  have  scores  of  churches,  but  the  three  leading 
ones  are  on  Fifteenth  Street,  just  back  of  the  Monu- 
ment, and  in  a  line  with  it.  The  nearest  to  the  heart 
of  the  city  is  the  finest — the  Fifteenth  Street  Presby- 
terian Church — but  all  three  are  among  the  notable 
"sights"  of  the  capital.  The  Presbyterian  church  is 
known  as  the  religious  rendezvous  of  the  educated  set, 
and  is  necessarily  small.  The  Kev.  F.  J.  Grimke,  a  negro 
and  a  Princeton  graduate,  is  the  pastor.  His  flock  is 
composed  of  school-teachers,  doctors,  lawyers,  dentists, 
and  those  colored  folk  from  all  over  America  who  come 
to  AVashington  when  they  have  money  to  get  the  worth 
of  it.  You  see  nothing  to  laugh  at,  no  darky  peculi- 
arities, in  that  edifice.  The  people  dress,  look,  and  be- 
have precisely  like  nice  white  people,  onl}^   some  are 

368 


black,  and  others  are  shaded  off  from  white.  You  see 
women  with  lorgnettes,  and  men  with  pointed  beards 
and  button-hole  bouquets.  Polite  ushers  move  softly  to 
and  fro,  flowers  deck  the  altar  at  the  proper  times,  a 
melodious  choir  enchants  the  ear,  and  young  men  dressed 
like  the  best-dressed  men  on  Fifth  Avenue  wait  on  the 
sidewalk  for  sweethearts  or  drive  up  in  fine  carriages 
for  mothers  and  sisters. 

The  next  fine  church  is  St.  Augustine's  Roman  Cath- 
olic house  of  worship,  farther  down  the  street.  It  is  a 
large  pile  of  brick  and  stone.  On  last  Palm-Sunday  it 
was  crowded.  Of  all  things  unexpected,  Irish  servant- 
girls  were  there  worshipping  beside  the  blacks.  A 
portly  and  fashionable -looking  white  woman  sat  just 
within  one  door,  in  the  vestibule,  with  an  ivory  and 
gold  prayer-book  open  on  her  black  satin  lap.  A  white 
priest  was  assisted  by  black  altar-boys.  So  great  is  the 
blockade  when  the  women  issue  from  that  church  that 
the  police  come  to  keep  the  street  clear. 

St.  Luke's  Episcopal  Church,  of  stone,  with  a  beauti- 
ful stained-glass  window  behind  the  chancel,  is  the  last 
of  these  ''swell"  colored  churches.  A  white-haired, 
white-bearded  colored  man  is  the  rector,  and  on  Palm- 
Sunday  he  preached  to  a  congregation  that  included  at 
least  fifteen  white  women  of  the  neighborhood,  Avho 
came  because  it  was  convenient  to  do  so.  In  this 
church  ten  days  earlier  the  servant  of  a  cultivated  for- 
eic^ner  livino:  in  Washincrton  was  married  to  an  Afro- 
American  belle.  The  foreigner  and  many  friends  of  his, 
whites  of  both  sexes,  and  persons  moving  in  high  society 
attended  the  wedding.  They  say  they  had  expected  to 
see  something  peculiar,  but  everything  was  ordered  as 
at  a  white  folks'  wedding,  and  at  the  end  the  men 
handed  their  dark-toned  women  into  the  carriages  and 
banged  the  doors  and  rode  away  quite  as  if  they  were 
2a  369 


accustomed  to  elaborate  weddings  and  the  comforts  of 
the  rich. 

As  you  ride  the  length  of  Fifteenth  Street  you  see 
the  small  houses  and  even  the  shanties  of  negroes  close 
to  the  great  mansions  of  the  wealthy  white  people. 
The  Hon.  Levi  P.  Morton's  great  house  is  not  more  than 
a  block  from  many  negro  tenements.  I  am  told  that 
the  case  is  the  same  all  over  the  edges  of  the  newer  and 
better  parts  of  Washington.  In  that  fact  you  see  one 
reason  for  the  wealth  of  so  many  families  of  colored  per- 
sons. "  Before  1870,"  says  one  historian,  writing  of  the 
now  elegant  and  populous  northwestern  section  of  the 
town,  "it  was  dreary  and  unhealthy,  abounding  in 
swamps,  and  mainly  occupied  by  the  tumble -down 
shanties  of  negro  squatters.  But  the  Board  of  Public 
Works,  under  the  leadership  of  Governor  Shepherd, 
began  an  extensive  system  of  public  improvement;  the 
swamps  were  drained,  streets  were  laid  out,  and  now 
the  quarter  is  noted  for  the  beauty  of  its  highways  and 
the  elegance  of  its  buildings."  For  the  making  of  this 
beauty  and  elegance  the  property-holders  were  assessed. 
Many  negroes  surrendered  their  lots,  but  many  others 
paid  the  assessments,  held  on,  and  were  made  wealthy 
when  fashion  led  the  rich  to  buy  up  the  land  and  build 
upon  it.  Thus  the  provident  colored  folk  who  had 
worked  and  saved  were  able  to  become  capitalists. 
Some  other  fortunes  were  made  in  trade,  and  by  cooks, 
restaurateurs,  and  men  who  practise  the  professions 
among  the  people  of  their  own  race.  One  popular  pro- 
fessional man  of  the  ebon  race  is  said  to  be  son  of  a 
man  who  mixed  cocktails  for  forty  years  in  a  saloon  on 
Pennsylvania  Avenue — but,  hoity,  toity!  why  should 
our  white  brothers  in  high  fashionable  circles  look  down 
on  the  man  for  that  ? 

I  have  spoken  of  the  musical  click-a-tick  of  the  horses' 

370 


hoofs  on  the  miles  of  asphalt  pavement.  But  there  is 
a  part  of  the  year  when  it  is  not  heard.  That  is  the  long 
summer-time,  when  Washington  is  hot,  and  when,  in- 
stead of  regarding  the  capital  as  a  majestic  monument  to 
the  Father  of  his  Country,  those  who  are  forced  to  live 
there  speak  of  the  place  as  the  sub-basement  of  Hades. 
Oh,  how  hot  it  is  then  !  The  asphalt  becomes  hot  lava. 
The  horses'  hoofs  sink  into  it.  The  carriage  wheels 
make  ruts  in  it — ruts  that  quickly  close  up  again  as  marks 
made  in  molasses  will  do.  Detectives,  equally  hot  upon 
the  heels  of  a  criminal,  can  trace  the  fugitive  by  his  foot- 
prints where  he  has  crossed  a  street.  The  beautiful  city 
of  gardens  and  palaces  and  power  and  pleasure  becomes 
like  a  capital  of  the  Congo  country. 

There  are  plenty  of  people  there  at  that  time.  Some- 
times Congress  is  sitting  even  in  midsummer.  But  if  it 
is  not,  still  plenty  are  there — clerks,  heads  of  depart- 
ments, the  whole  of  bureaucracy  and  trade  and  depend- 
ent labor,  led  by  the  members  of  the  well-to-do  who 
must  direct  the  machinery.  What  a  queer  experience 
they  have !  After  dark  they  venture  out  for  breath 
and  gentle  exercise,  and  the  enjoyment  of  a  respite  from 
the  terrors  of  the  day ;  to  prepare  for  the  terrors  of  the 
night  in  the  bedrooms.  At  nine  o'clock  at  night  all  is 
dark.  Heavy  shadows  and  light  shadows  cover  every- 
thing. All  is  silent  as  if  it  were  a  city  on  the  Mozam- 
bique coast.  Shadowy  forms  are  seen  on  the  porches 
of  the  dwellings,  on  the  high  stoops  and  the  galleries 
over  the  bay-windows.  They  are  the  women.  They 
have  learned  a  trick  from  their  negress  servants  and 
from  the  fixed  tropical  conditions.  It  regards  their 
dress,  which  is  such  that  they  would  not  tell  how  little 
they  have  on.  Though  it  is  a  trifle,  it  is  not  to  be  told. 
Upon  the  porches  and  the  balconies,  out  of  reach,  they 
can  and  do  dress  like  Sandwich  Islanders.     If  a  pedes- 


171 


trian  turns   towards  a  bouse,  these   feminine  shadows 
rise  and  disappear  in-doors. 

In  time  the  pedestrian  turns  in  at  his  own  gate  and 
into  his  own  bed.  Exhausted,  he  sleeps,  but  it  is  fitful 
sleeping,  and  every  now  and  then  he  wakes  to  find  his 
pillow  drenched.  On  some  nights — and  there  are  ten 
such  in  every  summer — the  oxygen  leaves  the  air,  and  it 
becomes  dead  and  motionless.  When  day  breaks  and  the 
city  bustles  and  the  sun  rises  high,  one  sees  the  air  shim- 
mer in  front  of  the  Treasury  Building  as  if  that  gray  pile 
were  a  furnace.  Then  the  people  pray  for  rain.  If  it 
comes,  it  presents  itself  with  tropical  severity,  in  slant- 
ing sheets.  It  may  do  good,  and  probably  does,  but 
never  enough  to  satisfy  the  populace.  After  it  is  over, 
the  streets  remind  the  beholder  of  pictures  of  the  earth 
at  the  time  of  the  coal  formation — a  hot,  hissing,  steam- 
ing mass. 

During  the  entire  hot  season  the  people  have  time  and 
inclination  to  reflect  upon  the  disadvantages  of  having 
two  extremes  of  climate  in  one  year,  and  upon  the  im- 
possibility of  building  a  city  to  meet  both  extremes. 
Having  to  choose  between  the  two,  AVashington  neces- 
sarily elected  to  become  a  Avinter  city.  It  is  a  Northern 
city  on  a  Southern  site.  The  winter  is  the  time  for  busi- 
ness ;  it  is  the  period  of  one  session  of  each  Congress, 
and  it  is  Avhen  the  people  of  the  North  resort  there  to 
enjoy  what  we  may  call  social  AVashington.  And  yet 
it  was  not  necessary  to  build  the  town  of  red  brick  and 
white  asphalt.  That  was  a  sad  mistake — a  combination 
ingeniously  contrived  for  turning  the  place  into  a  cook- 
stove  in  summer. 

372 


THE  PLANTATION  NEGRO 

No  Northern  man  ever  journeys  far  into  the  South 
without  hearing  that  his  people  do  not  understand  the 
negro.  Every  Southern  man  and  woman  sa3^s  so.  We 
do  not  know  how  to  make  the  negro  work,  they  say ; 
we  do  not  know  how  feAv  his  w^ants  are,  and  hoAV  eccen- 
tric they  are ;  we  do  not  know  how  to  make  him  happy, 
how  to  treat  him  so  that  he  will  love  us,  I  never  un- 
derstood why  this  is  so  insisted  upon.  But  I  never  went 
South  without  being  impressed  by  the  fact  that  no 
Northern  man  who  has  not  been  South  can  even  faintly 
appreciate  the  relation  there  between  the  whites. and 
the  colored  people.  We  make  fair  treatment  of  the  ne- 
gro voter  a  political  battle-cry.  Our  sense  of  justice 
compels  this.  But  until  all  Northern  men  in  politics 
have  seen  the  South — have  seen  a  certain  black  parish 
in  Louisiana,  for  instance,  where  there  are  400  whites 
and  3600  blacks — it  will  not  be  eas}^  for  them  to  exer- 
cise patience,  discrimination,  and  justice  in  the  battle 
for  fair  play. 

However,  that  is  on  the  edge  of  politics,  which  have 
no  place  in  this  chapter.  I  am  setting  out  only  to  nar- 
rate some  anecdotes,  and  to  describe  some  scenes  which 
have  the  colored  folks  prominent  in  them.  Once,  when 
I  was  in  a  Massachusetts  town,  I  saw  the  people  in  the 
newspaper  office  run  to  the  windows  to  look  at  a  negro. 
He  lived  a  few  miles  away,  and  was  the  only  man  of  his 

373 


color  in  the  neighborhood,  so  that  he  was  looked  upon 
as  a  curiosity.  Not  many  years  afterwards  I  found  my- 
self in  the  town  of  Newcastle,  Delaware.  I  saw  colored 
people  by  the  hundred.  They  stood  in  knots  in  the 
streets,  they  lay  in  the  roadways  basking  in  the  sun, 
they  filled  rows  and  rows  of  dwellings.  Putting  the 
two  experiences  together,  I  supposed  I  had  seen  the  two 
extremes  of  the  relation  between  the  whites  and  the 
blacks.  I  know  now  that  I  had  seen  neither,  for  I  have 
since  been  all  through  "  the  Black  Belt,"  where  even  the 
mechanics  are  often  colored  men,  and  I  have  been  where 
there  are  no  negroes,  as  well  as  where  negroes  are  sel- 
dom seen,  and  are  admitted  to  a  perfect  equality  with 
whites  of  the  humbler  class,  even  in  the  matter  of  wed- 
lock.    That,  of  course,  was  in  Europe. 

Such  a  condition  as  the  latter  is  hard  to  understand, 
yet  it  can  exist.  A  waitress  in  a  quaint  old  temperance 
hotel  in  Liverpool,  at  Avhich  I  once  stopped,  was  indig- 
nant at  the  conduct  and  language  of  a  Kentucky  gentle- 
man Avho  found  himself  at  the  same  dining-table  with  a 
black  missionar}^  She  could  not  understand  his  feel- 
ings. She  said  she  had  supposed  America  "  was  where 
all  men  were  equals."  It  transpired  that  she  was  en- 
gaged to  marry  the  colored  preacher,  and  wore  a  ring 
that  marked  her  engagement  to  him.  He  seemed  a  very 
nice  and  kindly  man,  she  said,  and  she  expected  to  en- 
dure three  years  of  hard  living  in  Liberia,  "  in  order  to 
come  back  to  New  York  with  him  and  be  made  a  lady." 
It  was  a  disagreeable  task  to  tell  her  how  far  from 
happy  or  respected  she  would  be  if  she  did  come  to  New 
York  as  the  white  wife  of  a  black  man,  but  the  truth 
caused  the  ending  of  the  match. 

Last  spring,  on  a  Mississippi  packet,  I  told  that  story 
to  the  Republican  postmistress  of  a  Mississippi  river- 
side village.     She  was  amazed.     "  The  colored  people  all 

374 


love  me  where  I  live,"  said  she.  "  Some  would  almost 
give  their  right  hands  to  help  me  if  I  asked  them.  But 
I  would  starve  to  death  before  I  would  eat  a  crust  of 
bread  at  the  same  table  with  one ;  and  rather  than  see 
my  daughter  at  school  with  a  colored  child — as  I  have 
heard  white  children  and  black  are  schooled  together 
in  the  North — I  would  see  her  grow  up  in  ignorance. 
I  am  kindness  itself  to  the  negroes.  I  am  the  best 
friend  and  chief  support  of  many  of  them;  but  I 
want  them  to  keep  their  place,  as  I  mean  to  keep  my 
own." 

There  are  the  two  extremes  indeed. 

It  is  a  curious  fact — or  it  seems  so  until  the  reasons 
are  studied — that  one  must  go  North  to  find  the  sharp- 
est and  most  unreasoning  prejudice  against  tlie  blacks. 
In  a  journey  I  once  took,  through  a  majority  of  the 
Southern  States,  I  did  not  see  a  single  instance  of  bru- 
tality towards  the  blacks  by  the  whites ;  but  in  Indi- 
ana, not  long  ago,  I  found  a  whole  county  w^here  the 
people  boasted  that  no  negro  was  ever  permitted  to 
stay  overnight.  There  was  not  a  colored  family  or  in- 
dividual in  that  county,  which  was  the  seat  of  the 
White  Cap  terrorism  of  a  few  years  ago.  And  it  was  in 
Asbury  Park,  New  Jersey,  within  fifty  miles  of  New 
York  (where  the  anti-negro  riots  once  took  place),  that 
the  people  protested  against  the  presence  of  colored 
persons  on  the  "Boardwalk"  or  sea-side  promenade  of 
the  village.  Of  course,  there  is  a  great  difference  be- 
tween the  colored  people  of  the  Black  Belt  and  those  in 
the  North.  Down  South  they  are  and  always  have  been 
the  laborers.  Up  North  they  are  sometimes  lawyers, 
teachers,  tradesmen,  and  persons  of  means.  It  was  in 
North  Dakota  that  the  wife  of  an  editor  boasted  to  me 
that  she  had  an  excellent  colored  kitchen-girl.  "  But," 
said  she,  "  if  I  called  her  a  servant,  she  w^ould  be  very 

375 


angry.  We  have  to  address  her  as  'Miss  Reynolds'  in 
order  to  keep  her  with  us." 

To  me  the  colored  folks  form  the  most  interesting 
spectacle  in  the  South.  They  are  so  abundant  every- 
where you  travel;  they  are  so  eternally  happy,  even 
against  fate ;  they  are  so  picturesque  and  fanny  in 
dress  and  looks  and  speech ;  their  faults  are  so  open 
and  so  very  human,  and  their  virtues  are  so  human  and 
admirable.  As  I  think  of  them,  a  dozen  familiar  scenes 
arise  that  are  commonplace  there,  yet  to  a  Northerner 
are  most  interesting.  I  think  of  their  fondness  for 
fishing.  Somebody  has  called  fishing  "idle  time  not 
idly  spent,"  and  that  must  be  how  the  Southern  colored 
people  regard  it,  for  they  seem  to  be  eternally  at  it 
wherever  they  and  any  piece  of  water,  no  matter  how 
small,  are  thrown  together.  One  would  scarcely  expect 
to  find  the  New  Orleans  darkies  given  to  fishing,  yet  it 
is  a  constant  dehght  to  them.  They  do  not  merely 
dangle  their  legs  over  the  sides  of  the  luggers  and 
steamers  to  sit  in  meditative  repose  above  a  line  thrown 
into  the  yellow  Mississippi,  but  they  fish  in  the  canals 
and  open  sewers  in  the  streets  that  lie  just  beyond  the 
heart  of  the  city.  It  is  delightful  to  see  them.  Those 
open  waterways  flowing  between  grassy  banks  out  tow- 
ards the  west  end  might  seem  offensive  otherwise,  but 
w^hen  at  ever}^  few  hundred  feet  a  calm  and  placid 
neffro  man,  or  a  "  mammv  "  with  a  brood  of  moon-faced 
pickaninnies  sprawling  beside  'her,  is  seen  bent  over  the 
edges,  pole  in  hand,  the  scenery  becomes  picturesque, 
and  the  sewers  turn  poetical.  After  one  has  seen  a  few 
darkies  putting  their  whole  souls  into  fishing  it  is  pain- 
ful to  see  a  white  man  with  a  rod  and  line.  The  white 
man  always  looks  like  an  imitation  and  a  fraud. 

From  St.  Louis  to  New  Orleans,  and  all  the  way 
through  the  Gulf  States,  negroes  and  fish-poles  were  for- 

376 


ever  together,  like  the  happiest  subjects  of  wedlock.  At 
least  one  darky  iishing  dotted  the  water  view.  Along 
the  lower  Mississippi  many  colored  men  now  own  little 
farms  of  a  few  acres,  with  a  log  cabin,  a  rifle,  a  mule,  a 
plough,  some  chickens  and  children,  a  wife,  and  a  fish- 
ing-rod. When  I  passed  by,  the  corn  was  planted,  the 
spring-time  sun  was  pleasantly  warm,  and  these  ebon 
monarchs  were  seated  in  their  dugouts  and  skiffs  watch- 
ing their  lines.  Some  hypercritical  white  men  Avere 
apt  to  call  attention  to  a  gaping  rent  in  the  cabin  roof, 
or  to  the  fact  that  a  day's  toil  at  remunerative  labor 
would  bring  the  means  to  put  in  panes  of  glass  where 
the  window  holes  were  stuffed  with  old  trousers  and 
hats.  But  that  is  according  to  how  one  looks  at  life. 
If  happiness  is  its  main  aim,  and  the  old  hats  and 
trousers  keep  the  weather  out,  the  fishermen  have  the 
best  of  the  argument.  The  Indians  on  the  plains  be- 
lieve that  the  more  a  man  is  civilized,  the  more  care 
and  responsibility  he  has,  and  the  darky  planters  who 
take  nature  into  partnership  on  a  three  -  acre  claim 
know  that  the  Indians  are  right.  Down  in  Florida, 
where  the  St.  John's  River  is  narrow  and  very  tor- 
tuous, the  passengers  on  the  regular  boat  one  day  last 
spring  were  occasionally  startled  by  stentorian  yells. 
"  Hi,  dar !  w^hat  you  doin'  ?  Can't  yer  see  w^hat  yer 
about?  Don't  you  come  a-nigh  me."  The  reason  was 
evident.  A  colored  man  here  and  there  had  fallen  asleep 
over  his  fishing-rod,  and  the  great  muddy  wave  which 
the  steamer  sucked  along  behind  her  had  engulfed  his 
little  boat,  and  startled  the  fisherman  out  of  half  his 
senses. 

In  every  view  of  the  country  outside  the  cities  one 
gets  an  idea  of  how  greatly  the  negroes  are  in  the  ma- 
jority. At  the  plantation  landings  on  the  river-sides  one 
sees  the  planter's  house  standing  alone,  while  near  by 


there  is  always  a  huddle  of  negro  cabins,  or  perhaps  a 
double  row  of  them  forming  a  little  street,  or  a  great  scat- 
tering of  them  over  the  fields.  Sometimes  the}^  are  neat 
and  in  good  repair,  but  neatness  is  far  from  being  a 
characteristic  of  field  life  in  the  Southern  States.  As  a 
rule,  the  cabins  are  dilapidated,  their  yards  are  littered, 
the  fences  are  in  ruins,  and  even  the  harness  on  the 
horses  and  mules  is  made  up  of  tatters  of  leather,  rope, 
and  chains.  It  is  a  mystery  how  the  average  field  hand 
keeps  his  or  her  garments  from  falling  off  in  pieces,  for 
they  hang  on  in  pieces  almost  like  the  scales  on  a  fish. 

Wherever  a  boat  lands  or  a  train  stops,  one  is  sure  to 
find  half  a  dozen,  or  even  two  dozen,  negroes  to  each 
white  person  in  the  crowd  that  gathers  on  the  levee  or 
at  the  station.  At  one  boat-landing  in  Florida  I  saw  the 
colored  "dominie,"  or  preacher,  followed  dow^n  to  the 
levee  by  a  knot  of  his  female  parishioners.  It  was  a 
burlesque  on  a  burlesque,  for  it  parodied  Bunthorne  in 
the  comic  opera  of  "  Patience."  He  was  a  very  stout 
and  comfortable  parson,  not  without  a  double  shine 
upon  his  broadcloth,  partly  of  wear  and  partly  of  grease. 
Like  Bunthorne,  he  rather  lorded  it  over  the  women, 
paying  very  little  attention  to  them,  and  standing  apart 
like  a  superior  being.  I  wondered  that  he  did  not  give 
his  carpet-bag  to  one  of  them  to  carry.  They  stood  in 
twos  and  threes,  snickering  and  giggling,  with  little 
rolly-poly  babies  clmging  to  the  skirts  of  some.  Each 
woman  had  some  red  about  her  ;  if  not  a  red  dress,  it 
was  a  red  shawl  or  a  red  waist  or  red  hood.  And  they 
chewed  tobacco.  These  are  two  common  inclinations  of 
the  female  sex  among  the  negroes — a  love  of  red  and  of 
tobacco.  The  dominie  had  a  ^N^apoleonic  face  and  great 
gravity,  but  I  am  sorry  to  say  that  the  latter  quality  was 
seriously  disturbed  when  he  took  his  departure  on  our 
boat.     The  gang-plank  had  to  be  put  almost  straight  up 

379 


and  down  to  connect  the  boat  with  the  river-bank,  and 
the  unfortunate  dominie  slipped  on  the  top  of  it,  threw 
his  carpet-bag  in  the  air,  and  went  down  the  plank  like 
a  barrel,  to  land  in  a  heap  on  the  steamboat  deck.  To 
the  cries  of  "  Did  yer  hurt  yer?"  by  his  disciples  he  vol- 
unteered no  reply ;  but  later,  when  he  had  brushed  the 
flour  and  dirt  off  his  coat  and  was  calm  again,  he  was 
graciously  pleased  to  remark,  "  You  may  tell  der  conger- 
gation  I  will  be  wid  dem  in  de  spirit,  and  will  soon  re- 
turn if  de  Lord  spares  me." 

On  the  same  trip  I  heard  a  pathetic  bit  of  a  dialogue 
between  two  colored  women  Avho  were  waiting  for  a 
train. 

"  Hello,  Lize !"  one  said.  "  Dat's  a  nice  dress  you 
got  on." 

The  other  replied  that  it  was,  and  ought  to  be,  as  it 
cost  seven  dollars.  "  But,"  said  she,  "  der  seams  are  all 
made  so  coa'se  and  clumsy,  I's  a'most  ashame  to  be 
seen." 

"Well,  don't  you  know  why  dat  is?"  the  other  re- 
plied. "  It's  'cause  you're  colored.  White  folks  gits 
what  dey  want ;  colored  folks  takes  what  dey  gits — and 
dey  gits  de  wors'  ebery  time." 

But  to  return  to  their  numbers.  At  every  landing  on 
the  rivers  the  banks  Avere  lined  by  idle  colored  people 
from  the  fields  and  villages,  and  the  white  men  were 
always  very  few ;  the  white  women  seldom  seen  at  all. 
It  always  seemed  to  me  that  these  idlers  enjoyed  seeing 
the  roustabout  boat  crews  do  their  heavy  work — and 
very  heavy  work  it  is  that  these  negro  deck  hands  per- 
form. They  use  no  barrows  or  trucks,  but  "  tote  "  nearly 
everything  on  their  heads  and  shoulders.  For  this  pur- 
pose merchandise  is  put  up  in  suitable  packages  in  the 
South  and  West,  the  sugar  and  flour  and  meal  being  put 
in  sacks,  and  the  other  staples  being  divided  into  small 

380 


boxes,  packages,  and  barrels.  All  day  long,  and  often 
all  night  as  well,  the  roustabouts  put  on  and  take  off  the 
freight  at  the  frequent  stations,  not  merely  dumping  it 
on  a  wharf— for  there  are  no  wharves — but  carrying  it 
up  the  banks  and  into  the  sheds  and  storehouses  at  each 
place. 

One  boat  on  which  I  travelled  carried  fifty  of  these 
tireless  human  pack-horses ;  the  smallest  crew  I  saw 
was  half  that  size.  They  slept  as  best  they  could — in 
their  clothing — on  the  main-deck  near  the  boilers,  and 
they  were  dressed  as  fortune  had  favored  them — which 
is  to  say,  mainly  in  rags.  They  worked  in  processions, 
like  ants,  one  line  moving  one  way  loaded,  and  the  other 
returning  empty-handed.  Their  common  gait  was  a 
trot,  for  this  primitive  mode  of  moving  a  cargo  is  slow 
at  best,  and  the  loads  would  never  be  put  on  or  off  if 
the  men  walked.  So  they  went  at  a  dog-trot,  hitching 
up  their  trousers,  rolling  like  sailors,  scraping  their  feet, 
and  slouching  along,  and  all  the  while  chanting  or  mut- 
tering some  singsong  phrases.  They  livened  up  every 
little  village  they  came  to,  making  such  a  noise  and 
bustle  that  it  was  rather  a  wonder  that  everybody, 
white  and  black,  did  not  turn  out  to  share  the  excite- 
ment than  that  the  idle  darkies  were  the  only  lookers- 
on.  The  Mississippi  Eiver  hands  got  a  dollar  a  day  for 
their  almost  superhuman  work — the  very  hardest  I  ever 
saw  performed  anywhere  or  by  anybody.  They  were  a 
dull  and  almost  barbaric-looking  crew,  and  I  was  told 
that  they  drank  up  all  their  earnings  at  Natchez  and 
New  Orleans,  where  the  boat  lines  terminate,  and  that 
they  carried  knives  and  razors,  and  were  scarred  all  over 
their  bodies  as  the  result  of  their  frequent  fights  and 
quarrels.  Of  course  that  was  one-sided  testimony,  but  I 
learned  long  ago  that  there  are  two  sorts  of  colored  folks 
in  the  South— the  rude  dull  field  hands  and  the  spruce. 

381 


polite,  and  far  more  intelligent  and  ambitious  house-serv- 
ants— both  originating  in  and  descending  from  similar 
classes  in  the  time  of  slavery. 

In  JSTew  Orleans  I  was  shown  the  quarter  in  which  the 
roustabouts  throw  away  their  earnings,  and  it  is  safe  th 
say  that  there  is  not  in  any  other  of  the  capitals  of 
Christendom  such  a  spectacle  of  low  and  almost  absent 
morahty.  The  dance-house,  which  is  the  headquarters 
of  the  district,  suggested  a  place  in  the  heart  of  Africa 
at  a  savage  merrymaking.  The  place  was  small,  not 
much  higher  than  the  people's  heads,  dark,  smoky,  and 
intensely  hot.  The  women  were  in  one  long  line,  and 
the  men  in  another,  facing  them,  as  in  a  Virginia  reel. 
The  dancing  was  primitive,  the  only  figures  being  a 
jig  by  both  lines  preparatory  to  a  general  swinging  of 
partners.  The  place  was  curiously  called  "the  coonje 
dance-house." 

Once,  when  Mr.  Smedley  and  I  were  taking  a  steam- 
boat trip  on  a  Louisiana  bayou,  we  reclined  on  a  pile  of 
sacks  of  freight  the  better  to  enjoy  comfort  and  the 
scenery  at  once.  We  attracted  the  attention  and  in- 
terest of  the  roustabouts.  We  heard  them  talk  to  one 
another  about  us  as  they  passed  bowed  under  back- 
bending  loads. 

"  H'm  !"  said  one.  "  Guess  dem  geramen  been  steam- 
boatin'  befo'.  Never  seen  white  folks  lay  around  on  de 
freight  that  way.     Seen  niggers  do  it,  though." 

Almost  always  what  they  said  was  interesting,  either 
in  itself  or  because  of  the  rich-toned  voices  and  peculiar 
dialect  they  used.  Sometimes  what  they  Avere  heard 
to  say  was  extremely  laughable.  On  this  steamer  the 
poor  fellows  had  a  night  of  almost  incessant  work  on 
the  heels  of  a  day  of  frequent  landings.  They  were 
tired ;  indeed,  I  never  will  be  able  to  understand  how 
they  performed  the  tasks  that  were  set  them,  though,  on 

382 


the  other  hand,  their  all  day  of  work  was  preceded  and 
followed  by  days  of  idleness.  This  is  how  we  heard 
them  discuss  the  situation. 

"  I  don't  work  on  dis  yer  boat  no  mo',"  said  one. 

"Work  on  dis  yer  boat?"  another  exclaimed.  "I 
wouldn't  work  agin  on  dis  boat  ef  she  was  loaded  wid 
griddle  -  cakes,  an'  de  molasses  was  drippin'  ober  de 
sides." 

"  I,"  said  the  first  speaker — "  I  wouldn't  work  agin  on 
dis  yer  boat  ef  she  was  loaded  wid  rabbits,  and  dey  was 
all  jumpin'  off." 

With  that  word -picture  of  a  boat's  cargo  that  was 
able  to  unload  itself  the  roustabout  threw  a  sack  of 
grain  upon  his  shoulders  and  slouched  up  the  gang- 
plank, apparently  unconscious  that  he  had  said  anything 
at  all  humorous  or  uncommon. 

In  Tallahassee  we  had  a  coach -driver  who  kindly 
showed  us  the  town,  including  "the  Colored  Afcan 
Church."  There  is  a  street  or  road  there  which  has 
upon  it  a  cemetery  and  a  seminary.  The  two  words 
confused  our  guide.  "  Some  says  cemetery  and  some 
says  seminary,"  said  he.  "  I  can't  rightly  judge  w^hich 
is  de  mos'  correct." 

We  visited  several  cabins  of  the  field  hands  on  differ- 
ent plantations,  and  for  my  part  I  was  astonished  at  the 
disorder  and  uncleanness  they  displayed.  I  never  saw 
worse  habitations,  except  the  tepees  of  wild  Indians.  In 
the  North  it  is  noticeable  that  colored  w^omen  keep  their 
rooms  tidy,  and  their  children  are  particularly  well  cared 
for,  as  compared  with  the  children  of  white  persons  in 
similar  circumstances ;  but  in  these  field  cabins  the  con- 
ditions were  reversed.  Thus  again  we  saw  the  line 
drawn  between  the  mere  laborers  and  the  upper  serv^- 
ants,  for  the  maids  and  men  at  work  in  the  planters' 
houses  were  usually  smart  in  appearance  and  orderly  in 

383 


their  work.  The  manner  of  treating  the  two  classes 
w^as  just  as  different.  I  had  no  opportunity  to  see  any 
work  performed  in  the  fields,  but  the  laborers  on  the 
boats  and  in  the  freight  depots  were  ''bossed"  by  mates 
of  severe  aspect  and  terrific  voices,  Avho  distributed 
themselves  Avhere  they  could  watch  every  "hand"  at  his 
work,  and  could  spur  them  incessantly  by  shouts,  and 
often  by  profanity.  I  heard  a  great  deal  about  violence 
by  these  mates,  but  saw  none  exercised,  and  cannot  say 
that  their  manner  was  unkindly  in  spirit.  They  simply 
acted  on  each  crew  as  a  pair  of  spurs  are  used  on  an 
unwilling  horse. 

In  the  cases  of  the  house  -  servants  there  w^as  a  dia- 
metric change.  Every  born  Southerner  who  was  spoken 
to  on  the  subject  seemed  to  have  in  his  employ  some 
old  and  faithful  servant,  and  all  had  enjoj^ed  the  care  of 
some  "mamm}^,"  either  dead  and  tenderly  remembered, 
or  alive  and  gently  cared  for.  Stories  of  one-time  slaves 
who  had  never  left  their  former  owners  are  still  plenty, 
and  reveal  the  attachment  these  better -class  servants 
developed  for  their  homes  and  masters.  A  brave  gen- 
eral of  the  Confederacy  told  me  a  sample  story  of  tlie 
pleasant  side  of  the  relations  between  the  masters  and 
slaves,  as  typical  to-day  as  in  slavery  times.  His  body- 
servant  had  married  just  before  leaving  for  tlie  seat  of 
war.  Years  passed,  and  one  day  the  general  said  to  the 
servant :  "  Tom,  an  officer  is  about  to  start  for  the  neigh- 
borhood of  our  home.  You  have  not  seen  your  wife  for 
a  long  while,  and  if  you  go  with  this  officer  you  will 
have  a  chance  to  visit  or  even  to  remain  with  her." 

"  Pshaw  !"  said  the  servant.  "  Tink  I  do  dat  ?  How 
on  earth  could  you  git  along  widout  me?  You  must 
tink  I  goin'  crazy." 

And  here  is  a  story  of  to-day.  It  is  about  another 
general,  who  is  fond  of  his  cups.     One  day  his  body- 

384 


servant,  seeing  that  he  was  tipsy,  took  his  watch  and 
money  for  safe-keeping. 

"  See  here,"  said  the  general,  "  you  are  taking  a 
great  deal  of  liberty  with  me.  I'd  like  to  know  who 
is  boss." 

''  Well,  Marse ,"  said  the  servant,  "  I  reckon  when 

you's  sober,  you's  de  boss ;  but  when  you's  drunk,  tings 
is  different." 

There  is  a  very  curious  side  to  the  relationship  be- 
tween the  house  -  servants  and  the  employers  which  has 
no  counterpart  among  white  persons  of  differing  circum- 
stances. An  artist,  looking  about  New  Orleans  for  char- 
acteristic costumes  to  be  used  by  models  for  his  paint- 
ings, discovered  that  there  are  few  second-hand  clothing 
shops  in  that  city,  and  that  those  which  are  there  offer 
only  the  most  ragged  cast  -  off  raimen^  of  the  negroes. 
The  reason  is  that  the  white  men  and  women  give  their 
clothing  to  the  colored  people — to  servants  or  depend- 
ents —  when  it  is  no  longer  serviceable  for  them.  Of 
course  I  cannot  speak  too  generally  or  positively,  but  it 
seems  to  me  that  every  man  and  woman  is  accustomed 
to  make  this  use  of  his  or  her  discarded  goods,  and  that 
every  white  family  has  at  least  one  colored  family  in 
charge  in  this  way.  The  servants  look  upon  tliis  de- 
scent of  clothing  and  finery  as  a  right,  and  the  depend- 
ents take  it  for  granted  that  what  remains  shall  be 
theirs.  Every\vhere  I  went  I  heard  stories  illustrative 
of  this  queer  relation  between  the  races.  In  a  conver- 
sation about  the  reason  for  the  common  assertion  that 
*'all  darkies  will  steal,"  a  planter  thus  expressed  himself: 

"  It  is  true  that  they  all '  take  things ',"  said  he ;  "  but 
they  make  a  difference  between  stealing  and  taking. 
For  instance,  they  will  not  steal  money  if  you  leave  it 
on  every  mantel-piece  and  bureau  in  a  house.  It  is  the 
same   with  jewelry.      They  condemn  such  a  theft  as 

2  B  885 


severely  as  we  do.  But  they  pilfer  provisions  and  cloth- 
ing with  easy  consciences.  Servants  are  apt  to  have 
poor  relatives  or  friends,  to  whom  a  never-ceasing  stream 
of  tea,  sugar,  flour,  bacon,  and  other  necessaries  finds 
its  way  from  your  kitchen  door.  That  is  not  stealing, 
in  their  opinion,  nor  is  it  stealing  to  clothe  themselves 
with  your  apparel  if  they  need  clothes,  or  if  they  imag- 
ine you  have  more  than  you  require." 

I  heard  two  stories  to  illustrate  this.  In  one  case  a 
servant  was  detected  with  a  heavy  basket  going  out  of 
the  garden  gate.  Asked  what  she  was  carrying  away, 
she  repHed,  "[Rothing."  Pressed  to  be  more  specific, 
she  lifted  the  lid  of  the  basket  and  exhibited  a  generous 
and  miscellaneous  load  of  selections  from  the  larder. 
*'  Dey's  nothing  'cept  'fluities,"  she  said,  meaning  "  su- 
perfluities." In. another  instance  a  man-servant  boldly 
appeared  in  his  master's  trousers.  "  I  w^as  'shamed  to 
see  you  hab  'em  any  longer,"  said  he ;  "  you  done  wore 
dem  pants  at  leas'  five  year,  an'  I  need  'em." 

They  cannot  resist  the  temptation  to  take  medicine. 
It  is  almost  an  absolute  rule  in  the  South  that  every 
negro  will  say  he  or  she  is  "  poorly  "  or  "  not  very  well 
dis  mawnin',  sah,"  if  their  health  is  asked  after,  even 
with  the  stereotyped  salutation, ''  How  are  you  ?"  Per- 
haps they  are  not  well  and  never  feel  so.  At  all  events, 
I  am  told  that  the  house  servants  constantly  take  doses 
of  whatever  medicine  their  employers  leave  about,  and 
if  a  bottle  of  physic  is  thrown  away  it  is  pretty  certain 
to  be  taken  "  all  at  once  "  by  whatever  darky  finds  it. 

It  is  apparent  that  we  in  the  ISTorth  do  not  treat  the 
colored  people  as  our  white  brethren  of  the  South  do ; 
but  whether  we  know  how  to  treat  them  is  as  difficult 
to  decide  as  it  is  to  discover  what  rules  govern  their 
treatment  in  the  South.  There  the  common  laborers 
are  ruled  almost  as  severely  as  old-time  sailors  on  a 

386 


wooden  packet,  while  the  house -servants  are  permitted 
liberties  and  familiarities  repugnant  to  our  sense  of 
what  is  fit  between  employer  and  "  help." 

I  have  not  sought  to  discuss  the  merits  of  the  political 
situation,  or  the  probabilities  of  the  negro's  future  in  the 
South.  They  seem  happy  there,  in  the  main,  and  many 
w^ho  have  emigrated  to  the  West  during  recent  "  crazes  " 
have  toiled  back  again,  singing  of  their  love  for  "  Dixie's 
land."  Many  Northern  men  established  in  business  in 
the  South  declare  that  white  men  can  never  fill  the  place 
the  colored  man  occupies  as  a  general  laborer  there.  The 
most  serious  question  is  that  of  the  free  ballot,  but  there 
are  two  sides  to  that.  If  we  lived  with  our  wives  and 
children  in  a  lonely  planter's  house  in  a  region  where  a 
far  ruder  people  outnumbered  us  ten  to  one,  it  is  possible 
that  we  would  get  a  glimpse  of  a  side  not  visible  from 
any  Northern  standpoint.  But  even  then  we  might  not 
see  why  the  education  of  the  colored  man,  the  presence 
and  example  of  newly  imported  European  labor,  the 
steady  influx  of  new  peoples  and  Northern  capital 
should  not  some  day  alter  the  conditions  there,  and 
remove  the  complaints.  Time  is  needed,  and  with  it 
patience. 

387 


XI 
THE   NEW  GROWTH   OF   ST.  LOUIS 

Population  and  wealth  are  classified  by  the  same 
standards.  In  both  cases  a  million  is  the  utmost  figure 
that  is  popularly  comprehended.  A  million  of  citizens 
or  of  dollars  suggests  the  ripening  of  success  in  both 
fields.  It  is  true  that  London  has  five  millions  of  citi- 
zens and  the  Astors  have  thirty  times  as  many  dollars ; 
but  London  is  simply  one  of  the  world's  capitals,  and  the 
Astors  are  but  millionaires  in  the  general  thought  and 
speech.  In  America  we  are  growing  familiar  with  big 
figures,  and  now  it  seems  logicall}^  likely  that  another 
town  will  soon  increase  our  acquaintance  with  them.  It 
startled  the  English-speaking  world  to  learn  that  Chicago 
had  reached  the  million  mark,  but  to-day  we  foresee  that 
in  a  few  years —perhaps  the  next  census  will  record  it — 
St.  Louis  is  to  share  the  honor  with  her.  No  other 
Western  city  has  such  a  start  in  the  race.  It  is  true,  if 
the  signs  are  to  be  trusted,  that  the  Twin  Cities — Min- 
neapolis and  St.  Paul — may  then  have  a  joint  population 
of  a  million,  but  St.  Louis  is  the  commercial  rival  of  all 
three  of  her  great  Northern  neighbors,  and  is  drawing 
trade  which  they  were  seeking,  while  the  Twins  are  sep- 
arate cities.  The  only  millionaire  towns,  so  to  speak, 
will  be  Chicago  and  St.  Louis. 

St.  Louis  is  already  the  fifth  in  size  among  the  cities 
of  the  land,  and  would  be  fourth  if  Brooklyn  were  rated 
Avhat  she  is  in  fact — a  bedchamber  of  New  York.     But 

888 


it  is  the  new  growth  of  St.  Louis,  her  re-start  in  Ufe,  that 
is  most  significant  and  interesting  ;  it  began  so  recently, 
and  is  gathering  momentum  so  fast.  And  we  shall  see 
that  never  was  city's  growth  more  firmly  rooted  or  gen- 
uine. What  is  accomplished  there  is  performed  without 
trumpeting  or  bluster,  by  natural  causes,  and  with  the 
advantages  of  conservatism  and  great  wealth.  More 
remarkable  yet,  and  still  more  admirable,  the  new 
growth  of  the  city  is  superimposed  upon  an  old  foun- 
dation. It  is  an  age,  as  this  world  goes,  since  this  proud 
city  could  be  called  new  and  crude.  The  greater  St. 
Louis  of  the  near  future  will  be  a  fine,  dignified,  solid 
city,  with  a  firmly  established  and  polished  society,  cul- 
tivated tastes,  and  the  monuments,  ornaments,  and  at- 
mosphere of  an  old  capital. 

I  have  had  occasion  once  or  twice  in  the  course 
of  my  studies  of  the  development  of  our  West  to 
speak  of  what  may  be  called  the  "  booming  organiza- 
tions" which  father  the  commercial  interests  of  the 
more  ambitious  cities,  and  in  some  instances  of  the 
newer  States.  These  should  have  had  more  promi- 
nence, and  should  have  been  mentioned  more  frequently. 
Though  they  have  nothing  to  do  with  the  governments 
of  the  cities,  they  are,  like  the  governments,  the  instru- 
ments of  the  united  will  of  the  people,  working  for  the 
general  good  ;  and  when  they  and  the  governments  con- 
flict, the  will  of  "  the  boomers  "  often  rises  supreme  above 
the  local  laws.  For  instance,  it  was  announced  in  one 
city  that  the  excise  laws  would  be  ignored,  in  order  that 
the  place  might  prove  more  attractive  to  a  convention  of 
politicians  while  they  were  the  city's  guests.  There  are 
good  reasons  for  such  supremacy  of  these  powerful  and 
active  unions.  Their  leading  spirits  are  always  the  most 
energetic  and  enterprising  men  in  the  cities,  and  their 
interest  in  their  schemes  for  the  general  advantage  is 


more  enthusiastic  than  that  which  is  felt  in  the  govern- 
ment. 

The  phrase  "booming  organizations"  is  applied  to 
these  institutions  for  the  benefit  of  Northern  and  trans- 
atlantic readers.  It  is  not  altogether  satisfactory  to 
the  persons  to  whom  it  is  applied,  because,  in  parts  of 
the  South  and  West,  booming  is  a  word  that  is  coupled 
with  unwarranted  and  disastrous  inflation,  as  when  a 
new  tow»n  is  made  the  field  of  adventure  for  town-site 
and  corner-lot  gamblers.  I  use  the  phrase  as  we  did 
when  we  succeeded  in  getting  General  Horace  Porter 
to  "boom"  the  completion  of  the  Grant  monument 
in  Kiverside  Park.  To  "  boom,"  then,  is  to  put  a  plan 
generally  and  favorably  before  the  people,  to  put  a 
scheme  in  motion  with  eclat^  to  vaunt  the  merits  of 
an  undertaking.  And  that  is  what  is  done  with  and 
for  the  interest  and  merits  of  the  newer  cities  by  these 
organizations,  which  are  there  variously  known  as  Boards 
of  Trade,  Chambers  of  Commerce,  and  Commercial  Clubs. 
They  are  in  essence  w^hat  our  Chambers  of  Commerce  in 
Eastern  seaports  are,  but  in  some  cities  they  w^ork  apart 
from  the  Chamber  of  Commerce  and  on  separate  lines, 
while  in  others  they  do  some  of  the  same  work  and  a 
great  deal  else  that  is  very  different.  They  are  in  some 
cities  what  an  engine  is  to  a  machine-shop  or  a  locomo- 
tive is  to  a  railway  train.  Whoever  visits  a  city  that  is 
well  equipped  in  this  respect  feels  the  pulsations  and  is 
conscious  of  the  power  and  influence  of  its  Board  of 
Trade,  as  we  note  the  presence  of  the  dynamo  in  a  boat 
that  is  lighted  by  electricity. 

These  unions  consider  the  needs  of  their  cities,  and 
set  to  work  to  supply  them.  They  raise  the  money  for 
a  fine  hotel,  if  one  is  lacking ;  and  in  at  least  one  city 
of  which  I  know  they  turn  what  trade  they  can  over  to 
the  hotel  after  it  is  built,  even  going  to  the  extreme  of 

390 


giving  a  grand  annual  banquet  there,  and  paying  a 
purely  fancy  price  per  plate  to  the  lessee  of  the  house, 
in  order  that  he  may  get  a  good  profit  out  of  it. 
They  raise  the  means  to  build  street  railroads ;  they  or- 
ganize companies  for  the  erection  and  maintenance  of  a 
first-class  theatre  in  such  a  citiy,  for  the  holding  of  an 
annual  fair  or  carnival  parade,  for  the  construction  of  a 
great  hall,  to  which  they  afterwards  invite  conventions. 
These  ventures  are  not  all  expected  to  be  profitable  by 
any  means,  particularly  in  the  smaller  cities ;  but  they 
are  "  attractions,"  they  swell  the  local  pride,  they  pro- 
mote that  civicism  which  is  such  a  truly  marvellous  fac- 
tor in  the  even  more  marv^ellous  progress  of  our  Western 
cities.  But  these  local  unions  go  farther.  They  obtain 
the  passage  of  laws  exempting  certain  manufactures 
from  license  fees  and  taxes  on  the  buildings  in  which 
they  are  carried  on,  and  then  they  induce  manufac- 
turers to  establish  their  workshops  in  those  cities,  giv- 
ing them  bonuses  in  the  form  of  exemption  from  taxes, 
in  the  form  of  a  gift  of  land,  or  even  of  a  gift  of  a  build- 
ing designed  and  constructed  as  the  recipients  desire  to 
have  it.  To  give  one  illustration  out  of  ten  thousand, 
the  little  town  of  Kapid  City,  South  Dakota,  gave  a 
noble  storehouse  of  brick  and  stone  to  a  wholesale  gro- 
cery firm  for  coming  there  to  do  business.  To  give  an- 
other view  of  the  subject,  the  editor  of  an  influential 
newspaper  in  one  of  the  ambitious  smaller  cities  of  the 
West  resigned  his  membership  in  the  local  Board  of 
Trade  because  he  said  it  contained  so  many  wealthy 
men,  and  they  so  frequently  subscribed  large  sums  of 
money  for  public  improvements,  that  he  was  uncom- 
fortable at  the  meetings,  and  preferred  to  do  his  share 
of  the  work  outside  "  until  he  had  made  his  pile  "  and 
could  "  chip  in  with  the  rest." 

These  commercial  circles  send  committees  to  Congress, 

391 


to  the  heads  of  great  societies,  to  the  capitalists  of  tlie 
East  and  of  the  Old  World,  to  urge  their  needs  and  mer- 
its, for  especial  ends.  They  cause  the  building  of  rail- 
roads and  railroad  spurs ;  they  print  books,  pamphlets, 
and  "  folders "  to  scatter  praise  of  their  cities  wher- 
ever English  is  read.  They  stop  at  nothing  which  will 
tend  towards  the  advancement  of  their  local  interests. 
They  are  unions  of  business  men,  land-owners,  and  capi- 
talists ;  but,  as  in  all  things,  one  man  is  the  dominant 
spirit  and  the  most  fertile  in  expedients.  This  is  usually 
^  the  secretary,  who  is  a  salaried  officer.  Men  Avith  an 
especial  genius  for  the  work  drift  into  such  positions, 
and  when  they  prove  especially  and  signally  capable 
officials,  such  as  those  are  who  are  in  St.  Paul,  Spokane, 
and  St.  Louis,  other  cities  try  to  secure  them. 

St.  Louis  has  one  of  the  most  progressive  and  influen- 
tial of  these  bodies  in  its  Merchants'  Exchange.  It 
is  by  no  means  a  mere  exchange.  It  does  very  much  of 
the  work  towards  the  public  and  general  good  of  which 
I  have  spoken ;  indeed,  it  may  be  said  that  the  entire 
Southwest,  and  the  immense  territory  drained  by  the 
Mississippi,  find  in  it  the  ablest  and  most  active  cham- 
pion of  their  needs.  It  is  to  the  central  West  and 
the  Southwest  what  our  Chamber  of  Commerce  is  to 
New  York  and  the  commercial  interests  of  the  Atlantic 
coast. 

But  with  the  sudden  assumption  of  a  new  youthful- 
ness,  in  old  St.  Louis  there  has  sprung  up  an  auxiliary, 
or,  at  all  events,  another  organization  for  the  exploita- 
tion and  advancement  of  local  interests.  It  is  called 
''  The  Autumnal  Festivities  Association,"  and  is  one  of 
the  most  remarkable  of  the  mediums  through  which 
American  enterprise  works. 

The  story  of  its  inception  and  organization,  with  the 
incidents  I  gathered  concerning  the  firelike  rush  of  the 

393 


movement  among  all  classes  of  St.  Louis  citizens,  pre- 
sents a  peculiarly  clear  reflection  of  the  character  of 
the  new  life  that  now  dominates  that  city. 

When  St.  Louis  failed  to  secure  the  World's  Fair,  in- 
stead of  sinking  back  discouraged,  its  leading  men  con- 
cluded that  one  fault  with  the  city  must  be  that  its 
merits  were  not  as  widely  or  as  clearly  understood  as 
was  necessary.  Therefore,  in  the  spring  of  1891,  a 
meeting  was  called  at  the  Exposition  Building  to  dis- 
cuss the  advisability  of  forming  an  organization  which, 
for  three  years  at  least,  should  devote  itself  to  celebrat- 
ing the  achievements  and  adding  to  the  attractions  of 
the  city.  From  the  stage  the  crude  plan  of  the  campaign 
was  announced,  and  suggestions  from  the  audience  were 
asked  for.  As  my  informants  put  it,  *'  the  first  '  sug- 
gestion '  was  a  subscription  of  $10,000  from  a  dry-goods 
firm ;  the  second  was  a  similar  gift  from  a  rich  tobac- 
conist. Then  came  two  subscriptions  of  $7500  each, 
and  others  of  amounts  between  $5000  and  $1000.  Mr. 
John  S.  Moffitt,  a  leading  merchant,  as  chairman  of  the 
Finance  Committee,  promised  to  undertake  the  raising 
of  one  million  dollars  within  three  years,  and  received 
promises  of  sums  amounting  to  $100,000  on  that  first 
evening.  The  sense  of  the  meeting  was  that  this  large 
amount  should  be  expended  in  attracting  visitors  to  the 
city,  and  in  interesting  and  caring  for  them  after  they 
came. 

A  sum  of  money  was  set  aside  as  a  bonus  for  any 
persons  who  should  build  a  one  million  dollar  fire-proof 
hotel  in  the  city,  on  a  site  to  be  approved  by  the  execu- 
tive committee.  It  was  resolved  to  appropriate  as  much 
as  would  be  needed  to  illuminate  the  city  with  between 
20,000  and  100,000  gas  and  electric  lights  on  especial 
evenings  during  each  year's  autumnal  festivities,  and 
committees  were  appointed  to  look  after  illuminations, 

393 


transportation,  and  whatever.  It  was  also  arranged 
that  one-third  of  the  full  amount  raised  should  be  ex- 
pended under  the  supervision  of  a  branch  of  the  organ- 
ization to  be  called  the  Bureau  of  Information,  and  to 
be  headed  by  Mr.  Goodman  King  as  chairman.  Mr. 
James  Cox,  who  had  been  the  managing  editor  of  one 
of  the  daily  newspapers,  became  the  secretary  of  this 
bureau.  It  has  offices  in  St.  Louis,  and  it  arranged  to 
open  others  in  London  and  other  cities  in  pursuit  of  a 
systematic  effort  to  advertise  the  commercial,  social,  and 
sanitary  advantages  which  St.  Louis  possesses. 

Without  waiting  for  the  raising  of  the  prescribed 
amount  of  money,  the  association  fell  to  work  at  once, 
and  the  illuminations  and  festivities  of  the  autumn  of 
1891  attracted  hundreds  of  thousands  of  persons  to  the 
city,  and  were  characterized  as  the  finest  displays  of 
their  kind  that  had  up  to  that  time  been  made  in  the 
country.  In  the  mean  time  the  Finance  Committee  be- 
gan its  task  of  raising  a  million  of  dollars.  It  adopted 
a  shrewdly  devised  plan.  Every  trade  was  appealed  to 
with  a  request  that  a  committee  be  appointed  and  a 
canvass  be  made  within  its  own  field.  Within  a  week 
200  such  sub-committees  were  at  work.  Each  vied  with 
the  other  in  an  effort  to  secure  the  largest  sum,  and  sub- 
scriptions, in  sums  that  ranged  between  three  dollars 
and  $5000,  poured  in.  Those  who  did  not  subscribe 
promised  to  do  so  at  a  later  time.  In  answer  to  about 
4000  applications  by  these  committees,  it  is  said  that 
there  were  only  five  refusals  to  join  the  popular  move- 
ment. 

It  had  not  occurred  to  the  leaders,  even  in  this  general 
sifting  of  the  population,  to  ask  the  police  for  any  sub- 
scriptions, the  feeling  being  that  the  money  was  to  be 
expended  for  purposes  that  would  greatly  increase  their 
work ;  but,  after  waiting  for  months  to  be  asked  to  join 

394 


the  movement,  the  police  force  applied  for  a  thou- 
sand subscription  cards,  appointed  their  own  collectors, 
and  sent  the  money  to  the  association  headquarters  in 
silver  dollars  carried  in  sacks.  The  citizens  who  were 
not  directly  appealed  to  —  the  lawyers  and  doctors 
and^all  the  rest — sent  in  their  checks,  and  five  months 
after  the  organization  was  effected  the  finance  com- 
mittee reported  the  receipt  of  two-thirds  of  the  total 
amount  that  was  to  have  been  raised  in  three  years, 
or  $600,000. 

It  will  be  seen  that  this  association  was  formed  after 
the  city  failed  to  secure  the  World's  Fair,  and  that  its 
term  of  duration  covers  the  period  of  preparation  for 
and  the  holding  of  the  exposition.  It  was  not  antago- 
nistic to  the  fair,  however,  but  was  simply  due  to  the  de- 
termination of  St.  Louis  not  to  be  lost  sight  of,  and 
not  to  hide  its  light  under  a  bushel,  while  the  country 
was  filled  with  visitors  to  Chicago. 

It  may  cause  a  smile  to  read  that  Chairman  King  and 
Secretary  Cox  report,  in  a  circular  now  before  me,  what 
work  the  Bureau  of  Information  has  done  "  to  correct 
any  false  impressions  which  have  been  created  by  the 
too  great  modesty  of  St.  Louisans  in  the  past."  But  they 
are  right,  for,  as  compared  with  its  rivals,  St.  Louis  pos- 
sessed that  defect,  and  the  frank  admission  of  such  a 
hated  fault  shows  how  far  removed  and  reformed  from 
retarding  bashfulness  that  city  has  since  become.  The 
bureau  reports  that  it  is  causing  the  publication  of  half- 
page  advertisements  of  St.  Louis,  precisely  as  if  it  were 
a  business  or  a  patent-medicine,  in  sixty-two  papers,  cir- 
culating more  than  a  million  copies ;  that  it  has  ob- 
tained reading  notices  in  all  those  dailies ;  that  "articles 
on  St.  Louis  as  a  manufacturing  and  commercial  me- 
tropolis and  as  a  carnival  city  "  are  sent  out  every  day  ; 
that  arrangements  are  making  for  a  weekly  mail  letter 

395 


to  500  Southern  and  Western  journals ;  and  that  once 
or  twice  a  week  news  items  are  sent  to  the  principal 
dailies  of  the  whole  country.  It  was  found  that  St. 
Louis  was  not  fairly  treated  in  the  weekly  trade  re- 
ports published  generally  throughout  the  countrj^,  and 
this  source  of  complaint  has  been  removed.  Invading 
the  camp  of  the  arch-enemy — Chicago — the  bureau 
has  caused  a  handsome  "  guide  to  Chicago "  to  add  to 
its  title  the  words  "and  St.  Louis,  the  carnival  city 
of  America."  It  has  also  got  up  a  rich  and  notable 
book,  called  St.  Louis  throiigli  a  Camera^  for  circula- 
tion among  all  English-speaking  peoples.  The  local 
service  for  the  press  telegraphic  agencies  has  been 
greatly  improved,  "  and  the  efforts  of  the  bureau  to  in- 
crease the  number  and  extent  of  the  notices  of  St.  Louis 
in  the  daily  papers  throughout  the  United  States  have 
continued  to  prove  successful,"  so  that  "  instead  of  St. 
Louis  being  ignored  or  referred  to  in  a  very  casual  man- 
ner, it  is  now  recognized  as  fully  as  any  other  large 
city  in  America." 

I  have  described  the  operations  of  this  association 
and  its  most  active  bureau  at  some  length,  because  they 
exhibit  the  farthest  extreme  yet  reached  in  the  devel- 
opment of  the  most  extraordinary  phase  of  that  which 
we  call  Western  enterprise,  though  it  has  long  since 
crept  far  into  the  South.  There  we  see  a  city  managed 
by  its  people  as  a  wide-awake  modern  merchant  looks 
after  his  business.  It  is  advertised  and  "  written  up  " 
and  pushed  upon  the  attention  of  the  world,  with  all  its 
good  features  clearly  and  proudly  set  forth.  There  is 
boasting  in  tiie  process,  but  it  is  always  based  upon 
actual  merit,  for  St.  Louis  is  an  old  and  proud  city;  and 
there  is  no  begging  at  all.  The  methods  are  distinctly 
legitimate,  and  the  work  accomplished  is  hard  work, 
paid  for  by  hard  cash.    It  is  considered  a  shrewd  invest- 

396 


ment  of  energy  and  capital,  and  not  a  speculation.  If 
we  in  the  Korthern  cities,  who  are  said  to  be  "  fossil- 
ized," are  not  inclined  to  imitate  such  a  remarkable  ex- 
ample of  enterprise,  we  cannot  help  admiring  the  con- 
cord and  the  hearty  local  pride  from  which  it  springs. 

St.  Louis  is  the  one  large  city  of  the  South  and  West 
(for  it  belongs  to  both  sections)  in  which  a  man  from 
our  Northern  cities  would  feel  at  once  at  home.  It 
seems  to  require  no  more  explanation  than  Boston  would 
to  a  New  Yorker,  or  Baltimore  to  a  Bostonian.  It  speaks 
for  itself  in  a  familiar  language  of  street  scenes,  archi- 
tecture, and  the  faces  and  manners  of  the  people.  In 
saying  this  I  make  no  comparison  that  is  unfavorable 
to  other  cities,  for  it  is  not  unfriendly  to  say  that  their 
most  striking  characteristic  is  their  newness,  or  that 
this  is  lacking  in  St.  Louis.  And  yet  to  -  day  St.  Louis 
is  new-born,  and  her  appearance  of  age  and  of  simi- 
larity to  the  older  cities  of  the  Northeast  belies  her. 
She  is  not  in  the  least  what  she  looks.  Ten  or  a  dozen 
years  ago  there  began  the  operation  of  influences  which 
were  to  rejuvenate  her,  to  fill  her  old  veins  with  new 
blood,  to  give  her  the  momentum  of  the  most  vigorous 
Western  enterprise.  Six  or  seven  years  ago  these  be- 
gan to  bear  fruit,  and  the  new  metropolitan  spirit  com- 
menced to  throb  in  the  veins  of  the  old  city.  The 
change  is  not  like  the  awakening  of  Rip  Van  Winkle, 
for  the  city  never  slept ;  it  is  rather  a  repetition  of  the 
case  of  that  boy  god  of  mythology  whose  slender  form 
grew  sturdy  when  his  brother  was  born.  It  was  the 
new  life  around  the  old  that  spurred  it  to  sudden 
growth. 

There  is  much  striving  and  straining  to  fix  upon  a 
reason  for  the  growth  of  St.  Louis,  and  in  my  conversa- 
tions with  a  great  number  of  citizens  of  all  sorts  be- 
tween the  City  Hall  and  the  Merchants'  Exchange,  I 

397 


heard  it  ascribed  to  the  cheapness  of  coal,  iron,  and 
wood ;  to  river  improvement,  reconstructed  streets, 
manufactures,  and  even  to  politics.  All  these  are  parts 
of  the  reason,  the  whole  of  which  carries  us  back  to  the 
late  war.  In  the  war-time  the  streets  of  St.  Louis  were 
green  with  grass  because  the  tributary  country  was  cut 
off.  After  the  war,  and  until  a  dozen  years  ago,  the 
tide  of  immigration  was  composed  of  the  hardy  races 
of  N^orthern  Europe,  who  were  seeking  their  own  old 
climate  in  the  New  World.  Chicago  was  the  great 
gainer  among  the  cities.  That  tide  from  Korthern  Eu- 
rope not  only  built  up  Chicago,,  but  it  poured  into  the 
now  well-settled  region  around  it,  where  are  found  such 
cities  as  St.  Paul,  Minneapolis,  Duluth,  Milwaukee,  Oma- 
ha, and  a  hundred  considerable  places  of  lesser  size.  It 
was  a  consequence  of  climatic  and,  to  a  less  extent,  of 
political  and  social  conditions,  and  it  caused  St.  Louis  to 
stand  still.  But  for  the  past  twelve  or  more  years  the  tide 
of  immigration  has  been  running  into  the  Southwest, 
into  Missouri,  and  the  country  south  and  southwest  of  it. 

St.  Louis  is  commonly  spoken  of  as  the  capital  of  the 
Mississippi  Valley,  but  her  field  is  larger.  It  is  true  that 
there  is  no  other  large  city  between  her  and  New  Or- 
leans— a  distance  of  800  miles — but  there  is  no  other  on 
the  way  to  Kansas  City,  283  miles ;  or  to  Chicago,  280 
miles ;  or  for  a  long  way  east  or  southwest.  Her  trib- 
utary territory  is  every  State  and  city  south  of  her; 
east  of  her,  to  the  distance  of  150  miles ;  north,  for  a 
distance  of  250  miles ;  and  in  the  West  and  Southwest 
as  far  as  the  Kocky  Mountains. 

Between  1880  and  1890  the  State  of  Missouri  gained 
more  than  half  a  million  of  inhabitants ;  Arkansas  gained 
326,000;  Colorado,  300,000;  Kansas,  430,000;  Ken- 
tucky, 200,000;  Nebraska,  600,000;  Texas,  640,000; 
Utah,  64,000 ;   New  Mexico,  Arizona,  and    Oklahoma, 


114,000.  Here,  then,  was  a  gain  of  3,174,000  in  popu- 
lation in  St.  Louis's  tributary  country,  and  this  has  not 
only  been  greatly  added  to  in  the  last  two  and  a  half 
years,  but  it  leaves  out  of  account  the  growth  in  popu- 
lation of  the  States  of  Illinois,  Iowa,  Indiana,  Missis- 
sippi, and  Louisiana.  St.  Louis  had  350,518  souls  in 
1880 ;  now  she  calls  herself  a  city  of  half  a  million  in- 
habitants. Her  most  envious  critics  grant  that  she  has 
470,000  souls.  In  1891  permits  were  granted  for  4435 
new  buildings,  to  cost  $13,259,370,  only  eleven  hundred 
thousand  dollars  of  the  sum  being  for  wooden  houses. 

The  cify  now  has  347^  miles  of  paved  streets,  and 
they  are  no  longer  the  streets  of  crumbling  limestone, 
which  once  almost  rendered  the  place  an  abomination. 
They  now  are  as  fine  thoroughfares  as  any  city  pos- 
sesses, 272  miles  being  of  macadam,  41  of  granite  blocks, 
and  the  rest  being  mainly  of  wooden  blocks,  asphaltum, 
and  other  modern  materials.  A  system  of  boulevards, 
of  great  extent  and  beaut}^  is  planned  and  begun.  N'ew 
waterworks  are  being  constructed  beyond  the  present 
ones  at  a  cost  of  four  millions  of  dollars,  but  with  the 
result  that  a  daily  supply  of  one  hundred  millions  of  gal- 
lons will  be  insured.  The  principal  districts  of  the  city 
are  now  electrically  lighted.  A  new  million-dollar  hotel 
is  promised. 

The  old  city,  with  its  stereotyped  forms  of  dwellings 
and  stores,  is  being  rapidly  rebuilt,  and  individual  tastes, 
which  search  the  world  for  types,  are  dominating  the 
new  growth.  The  new  residence  quarters,  where  the 
city  is  reaching  far  from  the  river  in  the  vicinage  of  the 
great  parks,  are  very  pretty  and  open,  and  are  embel- 
lished with  a  great  number  of  splendid  mansions.  In 
the  heart  of  the  city  are  many  high,  modern  ofiice  build- 
ings. They  are  not  towering  steeples,  as  in  Chicago, 
nor  are  they  massed  together.     They  are  scattered  over 

399 


the  unusually  extended  business  district,  and  in  their 
company  is  an  uncommon  number  of  very  large  and 
substantial  warehouses,  which  would  scarcely  attract 
the  eye  of  a  New  Yorker,  because  they  form  one  of  the 
striking  resemblances  St.  Louis,  both  new  and  old,  bears 
to  the  metropolis.  The  most  conspicuous  of  the  office 
buildings  are  distinguished  for  their  massive  walls  and 
general  strength.  Beside  some  of  the  Chicago  and  Min- 
neapolis buildings  of  the  same  sort  they  appear  dark 
and  crowded,  and  are  rather  more  like  our  own  office 
piles,  wiiere  room  is  very  high-priced.  But  they  are 
little  worlds,  like  their  kind  in  all  the  enterprising 
towns,  having  fly-away  elevators,  laundry  offices,  drug 
shops,  type  -  writers'  headquarters,  barber  shops,  gentle- 
men's furnishing  shops,  bootblacks'  stands,  and  so  on. 

But  in  praising  the  new  orders  of  architecture  in  St. 
Louis  I  do  not  mean  to  condemn  all  of  tlie  old.  The 
public  and  semi-public  edifices  of  its  former  eras  should 
be,  in  my  opinion,  the  pride  of  her  people.  That  culti- 
vated taste  which  led  to  the  revival  of  the  pure  and  the 
classic  in  architecture,  especiall}^  in  the  capitals  of  the 
Southern  States,  found  full  expression  in  St.  Louis,  and 
it  commands  praise  from  whoever  sees  such  examples  of 
it  as  the  Court-house,  the  old  Cathedral,  and  sev^eral 
other  notable  buildings.  What  was  ugly  in  old  St.  Louis 
was  that  cut  -  and  -  dried  uniformity  in  storehouses  and 
dwellings  which  once  made  New  York  tiresome  and 
Philadelphia  hideous. 

But  to  return  to  the  size  and  growth  of  the  city.  It 
reaches  along  the  river  front  nineteen  miles.  It  extends 
six  and  sixty-two  one-hundredth  miles  inland,  and  it  con- 
tains 40,000  acres,  or  61.37  square  miles.  This  immense 
territory  is  well  served  by  a  great  and  thoroughly  mod- 
ern system  of  surface  street  railways,  having  more  than 
214  miles  of  tracks,  and  run  almost  entirely  by  electric 

400 


and  cable  power.  Some  of  the  newer  cars  in  use  on  the 
electric  roads  are  as  large  again  as  our  New  York  street 
cars,  and  almost  half  as  large  as  steam  railway  coaches. 
Their  rapid  movements,  their  flashing  head -lights  at 
night,  and  the  cling-clang  of  the  cracked-sounding  gongs 
in  the  streets  seem  to  epitomize  the  rush  and  force  of 
American  enterprise.  There  is  an  element  of  sorcery 
in  both  of  them — in  modern  progress  and  in  the  electric 
cars.  Was  it  not  Dr.  Holmes  who  likened  those  cars  to 
witches  flying  along  with  their  broomsticks  sweeping 
the  air  ? 

If  Chicago  was  not  the  first,  it  was  at  least  a  very 
early  railway  centre  in  the  West,  and  her  citizens  are 
right  in  ascribing  to  that  fact  much  of  her  prosperity. 
To-day  St.  Louis  has  become  remarkable  as  a  centring- 
place  of  railways.  The  city  is  like  a  hub  to  these  spokes 
of  steel  that  reach  out  in  a  circle,  which,  unlike  that  of 
most  other  towns  of  prominence,  is  nowhere  broken  by 
lake,  sea,  or  mountain  chain.  Nine  very  important  rail- 
roads and  a  dozen  lesser  ones  meet  there.  The  mileage 
of  the  roads  thus  centring  at  the  city  is  25,678,  or  nearly 
11,000  more  than  in  1880,  while  the  mileage  of  roads 
that  are.  tributary  to  the  city  has  grown  from  35,000  to 
more  than  57,000.  These  railways  span  the  continent 
from  New  York  to  San  Francisco.  They  reach  from 
New  Orleans  to  Chicago,  and  from  the  Northwestern 
States  to  Florida.  Through  Pullman  cars  are  now  run 
from  St.  Louis  to  San  Francisco,  to  the  city  of  Mexico, 
and  to  St.  Augustine  and  Tampa  in  the  season.  New 
lines  that  have  the  city  as  their  objective  point  are  pro- 
jected, old  lines  that  have  not  gone  there  are  preparing 
to  build  connecting  branches,  and  several  of  the  largest 
systems  that  reach  there  are  just  now  greatly  increasing 
their  terminal  facilities  in  the  city  with  notable  works 
and  at  immense  cost.  The  new  railway  bridge  across 
2c  401 


the  river  is  yet  a  novelty,  but  it  has  been  followed 
by  a  union  depot,  which  is  said  to  be  the  most  commodi- 
ous passenger  station  in  the  world.  It  embraces  all 
the  latest  and  most  admirable  concomitants  of  a  first- 
class  station,  and  is  substantial  and  costly,  following 
an  architectural  design  which  renders  it  a  public  orna- 
ment. 

But  St.  Louis  is  something  besides  the  focal  point  of 
57,000  miles  of  railways.  She  is  the  chief  port  in  18,000 
miles  of  inland  waterways.  She  is  superior  to  the  nick- 
name she  often  gets  as  the  mere  "  capital  of  the  Missis- 
sippi Yalley,"  but  her  leading  men  have  never  been  blind 
to  the  value  of  that  mightiest  of  American  waterways 
as  a  medium  for  the  transportation  of  non-perishable 
and  coarse  freights,  and  as  a  guarantor  of  moderate 
freight  rates.  The  Merchants'  Exchange  of  St.  Louis 
has  for  twenty  years  been  pressing  the  Government  to 
expend  upon  the  improvement  of  this  highway  such 
sums  as  will  render  it  navigable  at  a  profit  at  all  times. 
The  Government  has  greatly  bettered  the  condition  of 
the  river,  but  it  w\\\  require  a  large  expenditure  and 
long-continued  work  to  insure  a  fair  depth  all  along  the 
channel  at  low  water.  What  is  wanted  is  a  ten -foot 
channel.  IS^ow  it  drops  to  five  feet  and  a  half,  and  even 
less  where  there  are  obstructions  in  the  form  of  shoals 
and  bars.  It  is  argued  that  the  improvement  asked  for 
would  so  reduce  the  cost  of  freighting  on  the  river  as  to 
bring  to  the  residents  of  the  valleys  of  the  river  and  its 
tributaries  a  gain  that  would  be  greater  than  the  cost 
of  the  work.  In  the  language  of  a  resolution  offered  in 
Congress  by  Mr.  Cruise,  of  Kansas,  "  it  would  reclaim 
an  area  of  lands  equal  to  some  of  the  great  States,  and 
so  improve  the  property  of  the  people  and  increase  their 
trade  relations  with  other  sections  of  the  United  States^ 
and  improve  the  condition  of  our  foreign  trade,  as  to 

402 


benefit  every  interest  and   every  part   of  the    whole 
country." 

Recently  the  Exchange  and  the  city  government, 
with  the  leading  industrial  bodies  of  the  city,  sent  a  me- 
morial to  Congress  w^hich  they  called  "  a  plea  in  favor 
of  isolating  the  Mississippi  River,  and  making  it  the 
subject  of  an  annual  appropriation  of  $8,000,000  until  it 
shall  be  permanently  improved  for  safe  and  useful  navi- 
gation." They  said  that  the  removal  of  a  snag  or  rock 
anywhere  between  Cairo  and  New  Orleans  extends  re- 
lief to  Pittsburg,  Little  Rock,  J^Tashville,  and  Kansas 
City.  This  is  because  the  stream  runs  past  and  through 
ten  States,  and  (with  its  tributaries)  waters  and  drains, 
wholly  or  in  part,  more  than  one-half  the  States  and 
Territories  of  the  Union. 

After  proving  that  28,000,000  persons  inhabit  the  re- 
gion directly  interested  in  the  improvement  of  the  river, 
the  memorialists  proceed  to  show  that  the  railroads  in 
1890  carried  freight  at  .941  cents  per  ton  per  mile,  and 
that  this  amounted  to  $11  29  for  1200  miles,  the  dis- 
tance between  Boston  or  Xew  Orleans  and  St.  Louis, 
whereas  the  river  rate  for  that  distance  was  $2  20  a  ton. 
They  show  that  whereas  it  cost  42|^  cents  to  send  a 
bushel  of  wheat  by  rail  from  Chicago  to  New  York  in 
1868,  the  rate  had  decreased  in  1891  to  .941  of  a  cent. 
This  saving  to  the  people  was  not  brought  about  solely 
by  competition  among  the  railroads ;  the  competition  of 
the  water  lines  w^th  the  railroads  also  influenced  the  re- 
duction. Upon  the  basis  of  an  estimate  that  fifty  mill- 
ions of  dollars  must  be  spent  upon  the  river,  they  offer 
other  reasons  for  believing  that  the  money  will  be  well 
spent.  They  assert  that  before  the  jetties  deepened  the 
mouth  of  the  river,  only  half  a  million  bushels  of  wheat 
were  annually  exported  to  Europe  from  New  Orleans. 
Now  eighteen  millions  of  bushels  are  shipped  thus,  and 

403 


the  amount  is  increasing.  Had  that  wheat  not  gone  by 
that  route  at  the  rate  of  14:^  cents  a  bushel  from  St. 
Louis  to  Liverpool,  it  must  have  been  sent  by  rail  to 
New  York  at  2H  cents  a  bushel — a  difference  of  seven 
cents  a  bushel  in  favor  of  the  river  route,  or  a  saving^  of 
$1,260,000  on  the  annual  shipment  of  wheat  alone.  The 
census  flexures  of  1890  show  that  the  amount  of  freig-ht 
carried  on  the  river  and  its  tributaries  in  1889  was  31,- 
000,000  tons.  It  is  impossible  to  here  follow  the  argu- 
ments and  pleas  that  are  embodied  in  the  memorial,  but 
it  is  well  to  know  that  they  are  not  the  outcome  of  the 
interests  and  ambition  of  St.  Louis  alone,  but  of  the  en- 
tire region  which  makes  use  of  the  now  erratic,  destruc- 
tive, 5ind  uncertain  river.  What  St.  Louis  asks  is  what 
'New  Orleans  wants,  and  this  is  what  Memphis,  Yicks- 
burg,  Cairo,  and  the  masses  of  the  people  in  several 
large  and  populous  States  believe  should  be  granted  for 
their  relief  and  gain. 

The  demand  of  the  people  of  all  this  great  region  is 
that  the  river,  from  the  Falls  of  St.  Anthony  to  the  jet- 
ties, be  permanently  improved  under  the  direction  of 
the  Secretary  of  War  and  the  chief  engineers  of  the 
army ;  that  $8,000,000  be  appropriated  for  said  improve- 
ment, and  that  a  similar  sum  be  annually  expended  un- 
der the  direction  of  the  Secretary  of  War  until  the  river 
is  permanently  improved  for  safe  and  useful  navigation. 

The  coal  supply,  which  has  had  so  much  to  do  with 
the  development  of  the  new  St.  Louis  as  a  manufactur- 
ing centre,  comes  from  Illinois,  the  bulk  of  it  being  ob- 
tained within  from  ten  to  twenty  miles  of  the  city.  St. 
Louis  is  itself  built  over  a  coal  bed,  and  the  fuel  was 
once  mined  in  Forest  Park,  though  not  profitably.  The 
Illinois  soft  coal  is  found  to  be  the  most  economical  for 
making  steam.  It  is  sold  in  the  city  for  from  $1  15  to 
$1  50  a  ton.     The  Merchants'  Exchange  has  it  hauled 

404 


to  its  furnaces  m  wagons  for  $1  56  a  ton,  but  Mr.  Mor- 
gan, the  secretary — to  whom  I  am  greatly  indebted  for 
many  facts  respecting  the  commerce  of  the  city — says 
that  those  manufacturers  who  buy  the  same  coal  by  the 
car-load  get  it  cheaper.  All  southern  Illinois,  across  the 
Mississippi,  is  covered  with  coal.  Fifty  or  sixty  miles 
farther  south  in  that  State  a  higher  grade  of  bituminous 
coal  is  found,  and  marketed  in  St.  Louis  for  household 
use.  It  is  cleaner  and  burns  with  less  waste,  but  it  costs 
between  25  and  30  per  cent.  more. 

The  Exposition  and  Music  Hall  Building  was  the  sub- 
ject of  what  was  perhaps  the  first  great  expression  of 
the  renewed  youth  of  the  city.  It  is  a  monument  to 
the  St.  Louis  of  to-day.  It  is  said  to  be  the  largest 
structure  used  for  ''  exposition  "  purposes  in  this  coun- 
try since  the  Centennial  World's  Fair  at  Philadelphia. 
It  is  506  feet  long,  332  feet  wide,  and  encloses  280,000 
feet  of  space.  The  history  of  its  construction  is  one  of 
those  stories  of  popular  co-operation  and  swift  execution 
of  which  St.  Louis  seems  likely  to  offer  the  world  a  vol- 
ume. A  fund  of  three-quarters  of  a  million  was  raised 
by  popular  subscription  about  ten  years  ago,  and  the 
building  was  finished  within  twelve  months  of  the  birth 
of  the  project.  It  is  built  of  brick,  stone,  and  terra- 
cotta, has  a  main  hall  so  large  that  a  national  political 
convention  took  up  only  one  nave  in  it,  contains  the 
largest  music  hall  in  the  country,  with  a  seating  capaci- 
ty for  4000  persons,  and  a  smaller  entertainment  hall  to 
accommodate  1500  persons.  The  famous  pageants  and 
illuminations  which  mark  the  carnival  in  that  city  are 
coincident  with  the  opening  of  the  exhibitions.  Six  of 
these  fairs  have  been  held  in  this  building,  each  contin- 
uing forty  days,  and  showing  the  manufactured  prod- 
ucts of  the  whole  country,  but  principally  of  the  Missis- 
sippi Yalley.     The  merchants  and  manufacturers  of  St. 

405 


Louis  naturally  make  a  very  important  contribution  to 
the  display. 

I  say  "  naturally,"  because  tliis  busy  capital  of  the  cen- 
tre of  the  country,  and  of  its  main  internal  water  sys- 
tem, has  an  imposing  position  as  one  of  the  greatest 
workshops  and  trading-points  of  the  nation.  In  the 
making  of  boots  and  shoes  no  AYestern  city  outstrips  St. 
Louis,  and  her  jobbing  trade  in  these  lines  is  enormous, 
and  rapidly  increasing.  Boston,  the  shoe- distributing 
centre  of  the  country,  sent  310,500  cases  of  goods  to  St. 
Louis  in  1891,  as  against  288,000  to  Chicago,  and  284,000 
to  ^ew  York.  The  gain  in  the  manufactured  product 
of  St.  Louis  was  17  per  cent,  in  1891,  and  in  the  job- 
bing trade  it  was  more  than  40  per  cent.  The  Shoe  and 
Leather  Gazette  of  that  city  makes  the  confident  predic- 
tion that,  "at  this  rate  of  progress,  in  five  years  St. 
Louis  will  lead  the  world  in  the  number  of  shoes  manu- 
factured and  in  the  aggregate  distribution  of  the  same." 

She  has  an  enormous  flour -milling  interest,  having 
sold  in  1891  no  less  than  4,932,465  barrels  of  flour.  Her 
14  mills  in  the  city  have  a  capacity  of  11,850  barrels  a 
day,  and  her  16  mills  close  around  the  city,  and  run  by 
St.  Louis  men  and  capital,  grind  9850  barrels  a  day. 
The  city  turned  out  1,748,190  barrels,  and  the  suburbs 
1,542,416  barrels,  in  1891.  In  the  neck-and-neck  race  in 
flour-milling  between  St.  Louis  and  Milwaukee,  St.  Louis 
has  recently  suffered  through  the  loss  of  a  large  mill  by 
fire.  The  figures  for  the  two  cities  were,  St.  Louis, 
1,748,190  barrels;  Milwaukee,  1,827,284  barrels.  It  is 
seen  that  our  reciprocal  treaties  with  the  Central  and 
South  American  countries  and  the  islands  off  our  coast 
will  open  up  a  large  and  lucrative  trade  in  flour,  as 
well  as  in  many  other  commodities.  While  I  was  pre- 
paring this  chapter,  in  1892,  a  large  shipment  of  flour 
had  been  made  to  Cuba,  where  the  duty  on  that  staple 

406 


had  been  reduced  from  nearly  five  dollars  to  one  dollar 
a  barrel.  The  city  exported  344,506  barrels  to  Europe, 
and  sold  more  than  two  millions  of  barrels  to  supply 
the  Southern  States. 

Cotton  is  received  in  St.  Louis  from  Missouri,  Okla- 
homa, Kansas,  Arkansas,  Texas,  and  Indian  Territory. 
It  seeks  that  way  to  the  East,  and  as  much  passes  on  as 
is  stopped  in  St.  Louis.  It  is  used  to  a  slight  extent  in 
manufactures  there.  A  wooden-ware  company  in  the 
city  sells  fully  one-half  of  all  that  ware  that  is  marketed 
in  the  country,  and  manufactures,  or  controls  the  manu- 
facture, in  many  places.  The  largest  hardware  company 
in  the  country  which  does  not  make,  but  carries  on  a 
jobbing  trade  in  those  goods,  is  a  St.  Louis  institution. 
The  saddlery  and  harness  makers  do  a  business  of  three 
millions ;  the  clothing-makers  have  a  trade  of  six  mill- 
ions ;  the  new  and  growing  trade  in, the  manufacture  of 
electrical  supplies  reached  a  value  of  five  millions  last 
year ;  four  millions  in  wagons  and  carriages  was  an  item 
of  the  city's  manufactures ;  the  making  of  lumber,  box- 
es, sashes,  doors,  and  blinds  amounted  to  five  millions ; 
of  paints,  to  three  millions,  and  of  printing,  publishing, 
and  the  periodical  press,  to  eight  and  a  quarter  millions. 
The  businesses  of  the  manufacture  of  iron  and  iron  sup- 
plies, brass  goods,  and  drugs  and  chemicals  are  all  very 
large. 

Within  ten  years  the  furniture  -  making  industry 
has  doubled,  and  there  are  now  about  sixty  furniture 
factories,  employing  four  thousand  men,  and  making 
§5,500,000  worth  of  goods.  The  territory  of  distribu- 
tion includes  Mexico  and  the  Central  American  States. 
The  fact  that  the  city  is  a  great  hard  -  wood  lumber 
market,  coupled  with  her  cheap  coal,  accounts  for 
this  growth. 

The  cattle  business  is  another  line  in  which  St.  Louis, 

407 


among  the  larger  cattle  depots,  made  a  unique  progress. 
She  handled  more  than  three-quarters  of  a  million  of 
cattle,  nearly  half  a  rnillion  of  sheep,  1,380,000  hogs,  and 
55,975  horses  and  mules.  The  only  falling  off  was  in 
the  horse  and  mule  trade,  and  that  was  due  to  the  su- 
premacy of  electric  and  cable  power  over  horse-power 
on  street  railroads.  St.  Louis  is  still  the  great  mule 
market  of  the  country. 

The  city  caters  to  human  weakness  by  an  enormous 
output  of  beer  and  tobacco.  Of  each  of  these  luxuries 
she  makes  fourteen  millions  of  dollars'  worth  annually. 
Here  is  the  largest  lager-beer  brewery  in  the  country,  if 
not  in  the  world,  and  the  city  is  third  in  the  list  of  brew- 
ing towns.  The  business  excited  the  interest  of  English 
capital,  and  a  syndicate  bought  up  a  great  number  of 
the  breweries,  but  the  two  largest  remain  the  property 
of  the  original  companies.  Twenty  millions  of  dollars 
are  invested  in  this  trade,  which  is  carried  from  St.  Louis 
into  every  State,  into  Canada  and  Mexico,  and  even  into 
Australia  and  Europe. 

St.  Louis  is  our  biggest  market  for  manufactured  to- 
bacco. Thus  the  principal  depots  of  the  trade  compare 
with  one  another : 

Total  sales  of  chewing  and  smoking  tobacco  in  the  United  Pounds. 

States 243,505,848 

St.  Louis 52,214,862 

Fifth  New  Jersey  District 22,000,000 

Cincinnati 21,000,000 

Petersburg,  Virginia , 18,000,000 

Of  plug  tobacco,  44,503,098  pounds  were  taxed  as  the 
city's  product  in  1891;  of  smoking  tobacco,  about  5,682,- 
000  pounds;  and  of  fine -cut  chewing  tobacco,  314,702 
pounds.  The  cigars  made  there  numbered  fifty -three 
and  a  quarter  millions. 

St.  Louis  had  twenty-three  national  and  State  banks 

408 


and  four  trust  companies  in  1892,  with  a  joint  bank- 
ing capital  of  $29,661,075.  The  city  of  St.  Louis  is 
one  of  the  two  ^econd  -  class  national  banking  deposi- 
tories, 'New  York  being  the  other,  and  Washington 
(the  United  States  Treasury)  being  the  one  of  the  first- 
class. 

It  is  a  comfortable  and  a  dignified  city,  with  every 
sign  of  w^ealth  in  its  commercial  and  residence  districts, 
and  with  a  shopping  district  whose  windows  form  a 
perpetual  world's  fair. 

The  knowledge  of  the  value  of  tasteful  and  attractive 
shop- window  displays  always  accompanies  push  and 
prosperity  in  a  city,  and  in  this  respect  none  in  America 
excels  this  one.  Yet  it  offers  a  chance  to  compare  mod- 
ern customs  in  this  respect  with  the  shabby  inert  ways 
of  the  traders  of  the  past. 

To  see  the  contrast  it  is  only  necessary  to  leave  the 
centre  of  Broadway  and  walk  to  where  that  street 
passes  the  French  Market.  Here  is  the  cramped,  care- 
less untidiness  of  half  a  century  ago ;  but  the  place 
has  a  distinct  interest  for  a  Xew  Yorker,  because  it  is 
his  Eighth  Ward  transplanted.  The  same  low  brick 
houses,  the  same  dormer  -  windows,  the  same  cheap 
signs,  and  the  stalls  and  stands  and  tiny  shops  that 
are  found  near  Spring  Street  market  are  all  re- 
peated. 

But  it  is  easy  to  change  one's  point  of  view  of  the 
city,  and  declare  it  to  be  one  of  the  most  open,  clean, 
and  clear  of  settlements.  This  can  be  accomplished  by 
going  out  to  Grand  Avenue  and  beyond,  and  riding 
through  the  dwelling  districts.  There  one  sees  broad 
tree -lined  streets,  costly  houses,  and  many  beautiful, 
semi -private,  courtlike  streets  that  are  the  seats  of 
pretty  homes.  In  this  neighborhood  are  the  parks 
which  are  the  crown  and  glory  of  the  city.     Some,  like 

409 


Forest  Park,  boast  nature's  beauties  merely  tidied  and 
treasured  up ;  but  others  show  the  blending  of  human 
taste  with  natural  greenery  and  blossom  adorned  by 
statuary  and  fountains.  But  St.  Louis  is  rich  otherwise 
in  those  possessions  which  have  elsewhere  been  described 
— her  fine  theatres,  her  clubs  and  churches,  her  great 
fire-proof  hotel,  her  schools,  and  her  old  and  cultiv^ated 
society. 

The  levee  along  the  river-side  is  worth  a  visit.  It  is 
diametrically  different  in  itself  and  its  atmosphere  from 
the  city  that  lies  back  of  it,  and  that  seems  so  familiar 
to  a  New-Yorker.  It  is  a  wide  and  imposing  incline  of 
stone  paving,  perhaps  250  feet  broad.  It  is  not  West- 
ern ;  it  is  Southern.  Hides,  wool,  cotton,  and  tobacco 
are  heaped  about  on  the  wharf-boats,  which  seem  to 
cling  to  the  levee  with  gangways  that  are  like  the  an- 
tennae of  an  insect.  There  is  a  line  of  huge  old-time 
river  packets,  looking  as  open  and  frail  as  bird-cages, 
but  with  towering  black  funnels  from  which  jet  smoke 
curls  lazily  up.  Beyond  is  the  turgid,  hurrying  river. 
The  street  along  the  top  of  the  levee  is  a  single  line  of 
warehouses  and  shops.  The  latter  recall  those  of  our 
own  water-side  in  New  York.  In  place  of  our  bronzed 
and  bearded  salt-water  men,  here  are  shiftless  white  la- 
borers and  negro  roustabouts.  But  the  same  petty  traders 
are  among  them,  keeping  drinking-places  and  stands  for 
the  sale  of  brass  watches  and  rings,  dirks,  brass-knuckles, 
pistols,  cartridges.  Cheap  gin,  cheaper  clothing,  and  still 
cheaper  jewelry  are  the  prime  articles  all  along  the  thor- 
oughfare, precisely  as  in  New  York  or  Liverpool  or 
Havre. 

The  water  supply  of  the  city  is  drawn  from  the  Mis- 
sissippi, as  is  the  case  in  New  Orleans,  and  the  cities 
between  there  and  St.  Louis.  It  is  mud-colored,  and 
seems  thick  and  soupy,  whether  it  is  or  no.     I  was  as- 

410 


sured  that  it  was  second  in  high  sanitary  qualities  to  the 
Kile  water,  which  is  still  muddier. 

It  used  to  be  said  that  the  sum  of  the  collective  am- 
bition of  St.  Louis  was  represented  by  a  pretty  woman 
with  jewels  in  her  ears  and  mounted  on  a  thoroughbred 
horse.  Women,  horses,  and  diamonds,  in  other  words, 
were  the  things  dearest  to  its  heart  in  the  by-gone  days. 
I  do  not  know  whether  this  taste  has  changed  with  the 
inrush  of  new  inhabitants.  They  certainly  have  the  fine 
horses  in  plenty,  and  St.  Louis  is  likely  long  to  maintain 
her  fame  as  a  seat  of  womanly  beauty.  Having  observed 
several  very  large  and  splendid  jeweller's  shops  that  are 
a  notable  feature  of  the  showy  business  streets,  I  went 
into  one  of  the  finest  and  inquired  of  the  manager 
whether  the  city  still  is  true  to  its  old  love,  the  dia- 
mond.    Behold  his  answer : 

"  There  is  no  one  of  moderate  means  in  St.  Louis  who 
does  not  own  and  wear  diamonds,"  said  he ;  "  however, 
they  are  not  worn  as  large  as  formerl}^  Two  and  a  half 
carats  is  the  size  of  the  largest  stones  now  worn  by  men 
or  women.  The  ladies  who  possess  ear-rings  still  .wear 
them,  but  few  are  now  bought.  There  is  no  nonsensical 
law,  such  as  obtains  in  London  and  Paris,  making  it  bad 
form  to  wear  diamonds  in  the  daytime.  Those  who  have 
them  wear  them  when  they  please." 

The  Chief  of  Police,  Mr.  Lawrence  Harrigan,  assured 
me  that  there  is  no  fixed  gaming-place  in  St.  Louis — not 
one  regular  "  game,"  even  of  poker.  The  people  did  not 
want  it,  and  the  police  did  not  want  it,  so  it  was  stopped, 
he  said.  The  men  play  at  their  homes,  in  clubs,  and  in 
the  hotels,  but  I  saw  no  sign  of  any  indulgence  in  cards 
anywhere  in  this  which  was  once  the  greatest  gambling- 
town,  next  to  New  Orleans,  in  the  country 

I  do  not  mean  to  say  that  the  city  is  a  moral  one,  for 
its  people  are  distinctly  human,  and  the  imperfections  of 

411 


their  lives  are  apparent  and,  in  some  respects,  lively. 
The  theatres  are  open  seven  nights  in  the  week,  and, 
while  Friday  is  the  play-going  night  for  the  fashionables, 
Sunday  is  the  night  for  the  people. 

They  have  an  American  Sunday  in  St.  Louis.  It  is 
the  same  as  what  we  in  the  North  call  a  European  Sun- 
day. But  it  becomes  apparent  to  whoever  travels  far 
in  the  United  States  that  the  only  Sunday  which  de- 
serves a  distinct  title  is  that  of  England,  New  England, 
and  the  Atlantic  coast.  The  Sunday  of  Chicago,  San 
Francisco,  Cincinnati,  New  Orleans,  St.  Louis,  and  most 
of  the  larger  cities  of  the  major  part  of  our  land  is  Eu- 
ropean, if  you  please ;  but  it  is  also  American.  In  St. 
Louis  the  theatres,  groggeries,  dives,  "melodeons,"  ci- 
gar stores,  candy  stores,  and  refreshment  places  of  every 
kind  are  all  kept  wide  open.  The  street  cars  carry  on 
their  heaviest  trade,  and  the  streets  are  crowded  then 
as  on  no  other  day  of  the  week.  On  the  other  days  the 
city  keeps  up,  in  great  part,  the  measure  of  its  old  river- 
side hospitality,  a  survival  of  the  merry  era  of  the  steam- 
boats. The  numerous  night  resorts — the  variety  and 
music  halls,  the  dance -houses  and  the  beer-gardens, 
blaze  out  with  a  prominence  nothing  gets  by  day. 

To  conclude,  in  the  language  of  the  editor  of  one  of 
the  several  thoroughly  equipped  newspapers  of  the  city : 
"  St.  Louis  prefers  to  do  business  according  to  safe  and 
creditable  doctrines,  and  to  win  success  by  honestly  de- 
serving it.  Her  experience  has  vindicated  her  policy. 
She  has  never  taken  a  step  backward.  She  does  her 
business  Avith  her  own  money.  She  has  multiplied  her 
mercantile  and  manufacturing  establishments,  her  blocks 
of  magnificent  buildings,  and  her  facilities  of  trade  in 
every  direction  out  of  her  legitimate  profits.  As  she  has 
been  in  the  past,  so  she  will  be  in  the  future — the  coun- 
try's best  example  of  a  truly  thrifty  city." 


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